The Routine
by kellymanning
Summary: Routine was safe. It was survival. It was a way of life. But it wasn't living. For a brief moment in time, he showed me that. And then everything fell apart. SPENCER REID/OFC
1. INTRODUCTION

I had always lived my life by routine.

Wake up.

Go to the gym.

Get coffee.

Shower.

Go to work.

Go home.

Make dinner.

Go to sleep.

Repeat.

Those were the rules. Live by a routine and try to make it to the next day. Don't get close to anyone. Stay alert and awake. Don't talk about the past. Don't get close to anyone. Don't alienate myself. Don't draw attention to myself. Don't get close to _anyone_.

Everyday I repeated the rules to myself, hoping that this minding-numbingly dull routine would end. So far it had been 2 years, 7 months, and 12 days since… Well, I guess I can't reveal that quite yet, can I?

My life wasn't always like this, and those memories haunted me. There was once a time when I was free, and alive. I could walk down the street without checking over my shoulder every ten seconds. Everyday was an adventure and a blessing. I lived a life. Now everyday was a curse.

Maybe I got sick of the rules and the mundane lifestyle I had. Maybe I let my guard down just enough.

All I know is that one second I felt dead.

Then he brought me back to life.


	2. CHAPTER ONE

It was a Tuesday morning. I had just entered Backroads Coffee after leaving my pilates class at the local yoga studio. Less than a block from my apartment, I went there every Tuesday and Thursday. Routine, right?

I walked up to the counter, as there was no life, per usual. Backroads wasn't a popular little coffee shop, which made it ideal. Small and quaint, it was right below the yoga studio and across the street from my local gym. I went there almost every morning.

"Morning Sarah," said the teenage girl behind the counter, "The usual this morning?" I made eye contact with her. She was new to the job, with her shiny name tag reading "Jen," but already had picked up on my habits.

"Yes please," I said, breaking eye contact to grab my wallet.

"Perfect, your total is $4.27," she said, giving me a bright smile. I awkwardly returned the smile as I handed her a five dollar bill. She quickly got my change and I put it into the tip jar along with a single dollar.

"Thank you, and your order will be ready in just a minute!" She said, glancing behind me as I stepped to the side, "How can I help you today, sir?"

"A large black coffee, please," the voice behind me said. I furrowed my eyebrows. It was odd for someone else to be there at this time. I took a quick glance at the man behind me. He was a tall man with dark hair wearing suit. Probably some sort of government official, which wasn't that uncommon, I reminded myself. This was less than 20 minutes from Quantico. I quickly averted my gaze and took a seat at a table while I waited for my coffee to be ready.

"Sarah? Your coffee is ready!" Jen said. I got to my feet and grabbed the coffee from her hands, thanking her. I turned to leave, taking a sip of my drink. I heard Jen's voice behind me call another name but I paid no attention, trying to start my short walk home. No sooner had I taken a sip did I make a face.

It was a black coffee.

Not my mocha.

"Excuse me?" I said getting Jen's attention, "I think you may have mixed up my order with someone else's."

"Oh darn," she said, cheeks burning as she peered into my cup, "I am so sorry about that." She looked behind me and called, "Sir! Excuse me! You have the wrong order!"

I looked around to see the same man who had been behind me in line.

"I'll remake those for you both very quickly, just give me one second!" Jen said, turning to get to business.

I let out a soft sigh and turned to sit back down, almost bumping into the man behind me.

"Excuse me," I said, brushing past him.

"Does this happen often?"

"What?" I said turning to face the man.

"Is it often that your coffee orders get switched up?" he clarified.

"No," I said, clearing my throat, "Jen is new here." He nodded and stood stiffly by the counter. I sat down and we remained there in silence for a new seconds before Jen came back, two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Now a mocha for Sarah," she said, grinning as she handed me my drink, "and a large black coffee for…"

"Aaron," he said, "thank you."

"So sorry about that, and I hope to see you both again soon!" Jen quipped, "Now have a great day!"

Giving her a small wave, I took a sip of my coffee and walked out of the shop, feeling the cold air hit my skin. Then I trekked onward to my apartment, checking behind me every ten seconds, and not stopping till I reached my apartment.

The one thing about routine is noticing when something changes. In this case, the change was at Backroads Coffee. The same man, Aaron, kept appearing. Not everyday, at first, but enough to notice. He always got the same thing, a large black coffee. Even the thought of downing a cup of that was enough to make my skin crawl. I had always thought that black coffee was too bitter and acidic.

About a month later, another change occurred, altering routine. I entered the coffee shop and he was already seated, drinking his bitter cup of death, but he was sitting with someone. A small boy, no older than 5 years old, was sitting with him, eating what I assumed to be a blueberry muffin from the pastry case.

"The usual," came Jen's voice, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Oh, yes! Sorry," I murmured grabbing the money and paying her, before leaving a tip in the tip jar. I turned to go sit in my usual spot where I would wait for my coffee, before realizing Aaron and the boy were seated at my usual table. I took the stop next to them, grabbing my phone out of my bag to read the daily news. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

"Daddy, can I use the restroom?" came a voice from the table next to me. I let a small smile grace my face. So he had a son.

"One sec buddy, let me see…" Aaron said, his voice trailing off. "Excuse me?" I was pulled from my thoughts to see him looking at me. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you knew where the restrooms are?" Taking a glance at the counter and not seeing Jen, I nodded.

"Um, yeah. So, basically, towards the back there is a bookshelf and the restrooms are to the right of that," I said pointing to the back of the coffee shop.

"Thank you, and would you mind watching our stuff while I take him-" he began, but I cut him off.

"It's no problem. I'm still waiting for my coffee anyways." He gave a short smile and ushered his son off to the bathroom. I smiled at the sight. The little boy reminded me of-

No. I can't think of that.

Closing my eyes for a second and taking a deep breath, I reminded myself of the rules.

I opened them and glanced at the counter just as Jen called out my name. I got up and murmured a quick thank you before sitting back down.

A few minutes late the pair emerged from the back.

"Thank you," Aaron said.

"It's no problem, really," I said grabbing my bag.

"I never caught your name?" He said, giving me an expectant look. I glanced him, giving him a once over. He seemed harmless enough with his kid clinging to his side.

"Sarah," I said, sticking out my hand for a handshake. He shook mine as he continued.

"Aaron, and this is Jack," he said gesturing to the blonde child next to him.

"Nice to meet you both, but I'm afraid I really must be going," I said, giving the child, Jack, a small smile.

"Of course," Aaron said, "Now Jack, what do we say?"

"Thank you Sarah!" Jack said, giving a little jump. I let out a small chuckle and crouched to his level.

"You're very welcome Jack," I said. I turned to leave before turning, "Have a nice rest of your day."

They returned the sentiment as I left, sipping my mocha and ignoring the small smile on my face.


	3. CHAPTER TWO

It was the fourth of December. The fourth of the month only brought one thing: Daniel. We always met at the third bench from the lamppost at the local park, located exactly 1 mile from my apartment. I always took that opportunity to go for a run, missing the feeling of running on the wooded trails.

The fourth always brought feelings of both dread and hope. Those feelings only magnified when I saw the familiar black suited man sitting on the third bench. Pulling the headphones out of my ears, I slowed my pace and walked over to the bench.

"Sarah," Daniel said, his voice gruff as his eyes scanned the park.

"Daniel," I said, sitting forward. We never made eye contact.

"Anything unusual happen?"

"No."

"Sticking to the routine?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said, rummaging in his pocket.

"Any updates?"

"No, unfortunately," he said, grabbing the monthly envelope.

"What about-" I began, but before I could continue he cut me off.

"You know I can't tell you about that."

"I know," I said quietly, tucking the envelope in the waistband of my leggings. I looked at the ground, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

"You have the bag still, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. I will see you next month unless you need something else," he said, getting up to leave.

"Thank you," I said. He didn't respond, only nodding before walking across the park.

I let out a breath as I let myself relax for a second on the bench. It was cold, so I knew I should head back soon before I froze. I looked around at the people going about their business. It happened to be a Saturday, so there were kids running around anxiously to get to their games. I smiled as little kids looked for their parents' approval after scoring a goal and parents gossiping. They were all living so normally.

I missed that.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I stood and began to put my headphones in.

"Sarah, right?" came a voice from behind me. I felt my heart began to race as I turned around and saw a familiar face.

"Aaron? Oh, hi!" I said, almost not recognizing him in more casual attire than his typical suits.

"Out for a jog?"

"Yeah, you could say that. What about you?" I said, wondering why he was here.

"My son, Jack, you remember him?" he asked. I nodded to show that I did remember the little blonde boy. "Well, he plays on one of the soccer teams and I just got bumped up to coach."

"That's great! Well, I won't keep you from the game," I said, wanting to leave. I had seen Aaron too many times and was beginning to feel suspicious. He wasn't part of my routine.

"I'm actually waiting on the assistant coach, so no rush unless you have somewhere you need to be?" he asked. I inwardly groaned. Saturdays were technically my "deviant" day where there wasn't a set in stone routine, so I could do my grocery shopping and relaxing.

"Not exactly, but I should finish up my run and go shower," I said, saying the first thing that popped into my head.

"I understand. Have a nice-" he began but was interrupted by another man's voice

"Hotch, why on earth would they have their games this early in the morning?" I turned to see a tan man with a goatee-beard thing behind us.

"Believe me, Rossi, if I knew, I would tell you," Aaron said letting out a short laugh.

"Hotch?" I asked, intrigued by the name.

"Aaron Hotchner," Aaron said, "so feel free to join everyone else in calling me Hotch."

"Noted." I said, giving a small nod.

"Who is your friend?" The other man, Rossi, asked.

"Rossi, this is Sarah, and Sarah this is David Rossi," Hotch said. I gave David a firm handshake as he asked, "Sarah… Is there a last name to go with that?"

"Sarah Bennett," I said, giving a smile. Just as I was about to excuse myself to leave when Rossi asked me a question.

"So how does a lovely woman like you know Hotch?" I froze, inwardly cursing. I wanted nothing more than to get out of this park.

"We go to the same coffee shop and have talked a few times," Hotch said, "and Sarah was just saying how she had to leave." I gave him a grateful look, but felt slightly guilty as he assumed that I had pressing matters, when really that was not the case.

"Sorry to keep you," Rossi said.

"It's fine, but it was great to meet you and to see you again Hotch," I said, putting my headphones in and began my run back to my apartment.

Even though it was cold, it was still nice weather for running. I didn't get to run outside very much nowadays, often opting for the safety of a local gym or yoga studio. It was nice to feel the wind on my face and the sun on my skin. In a matter of minutes I found myself outside of my apartment building. I wrestled my keys out of the back pocket of my leggings before walking up the stairs to the second floor. I walked down the hall and was greeted by the familiar door. Apartment 2G. Home, I guess.

Unlocking the door and swiftly locking it behind me. I walked to the small kitchen to grab an apple out of the fridge. Biting into it, I took out the envelope and opened it. Inside was $1,000 in varying bills, no repeated serial numbers. Pushing that to the side, I searched for the important item in the envelope.

The brief.

Opening the paper, I skimmed over the contents. The same old, same old.

_No leads._

_No suspects._

_Investigation ongoing._

I let out a sigh as I rubbed my forehead. How much longer could this investigation be considered ongoing? After all, it had been nearly three years.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I took the paper to the small shredder I kept by the front door for important documents like these. Watching the paper turn into thin strips, I couldn't help but think about Hotch and his friend. After all, he had been turning up more and more.

And I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.


	4. CHAPTER THREE

Over the next few days, I did not see Hotch. It was a weird feeling. He was never part of my routine, and yet it was odd to not see him for multiple days at a time. It was nice to not be the only person in the coffee shop, yet there was something that made me uneasy about his presence. Maybe it was the fact that in the span of nearly 3 years since my arrival in Stafford, he was one of the few people I had held a conversation with, other than my coworkers, people I ran into through my daily schedule routine, and Caroline.

Speaking of Caroline, my phone buzzed with a notification from her.

_Hey girl- been a hot minute since I've seen ya! Let's go out tonite! Barry's Bar 9?_

The last thing I wanted to to on a Wednesday night was go out, but I knew that Caroline would not give up till I went out with her. I hurriedly typed out my reply.

_Sounds good. Meet you there? And NO dates!_

I also knew that she would likely try to bring a date with her, meaning I would be alone and uncomfortable in a bar. I set down my phone on my counter as I pulled my hair into a tight ponytail and not even five seconds later, my phone buzzed.

_Ugh no fun! Meeting there sounds g8. BUT if there's a hottie, I'm going in ;)_

I rolled my eyes at her antics. Caroline and I had met at during a yoga class a year ago. Despite my best attempts to avoid conversation and companionship, soon she was hanging out with me and texting me every single day. But that was her personality. Outgoing and determined, she decided to make me her project of sorts, saying that I needed to go out more.

Of course, that was easy for her to say.

Checking the time, I saw that it was almost 8:30AM, which meant that I had to leave for work now, or risk being late. Grabbing my purse, I smoothed out my pencil skirt and adjusted my button-down's collar. Then I opened the door and walked out, locking it tightly behind me.

I worked at a building two blocks away, so I had no need for a car and the hassle of trying to find a place to park it, keeping up with maintenance, and paying for gas.

Plus, it was another way for me to get out.

Before I knew it, I was standing outside of Bolt PR offices. My work as a secretary was mundane and dull but at least I got benefits. I plastered on a smile as I took my seat behind the front desk and waited for a phone call or clients to come in, counting down the hours till 5PM.

"Bye Sarah," said Carl, one of my supervisors, as he headed out the door.

"See you tomorrow Carl," I said, giving him a tight-lipped smile as I began to turn off the computer and the lights. I was always the last one out of the office. It was not my favorite thing, but that's what pocket pepper spray is for, right?

Turning out the lights and locking up the office, I began my trek home, checking my phone for any new messages. Sure enough there was a message from Caroline.

_Double-checking 4 tonite? Dress hot babe, maybe that tight black number bday gift?_

I let out a soft chuckle thinking of the outrageously short and tight dress that was untouched in the back of my closet. She had got it for me as a birthday gift saying that I needed to "loosen up" and "life a little." I typed out my reply once I got to my door.

_Still good for tonight. We'll see about the dress._

I walked through the door of my apartment, locking it tight behind me. I glance towards the kitchen and debate making myself a quick early dinner. I would save money by not binging on food at the bar… but then at the same time, I didn't have something quick and easy to make. Deciding to eat a quick banana to tide me over, I plop myself on the couch. I had about an hour and half before I had to get dressed for the bar, so I decided to catch up on my book that I had rented through the local library. It was Agatha Christie's _Curtain_. The librarian recommended it to me after seeing my inclination for murder-mysteries.

I kicked off my heels and snuggled into the couch, keeping an eye on the time. Soon enough, I had to get ready to go meet Caroline. Putting a bookmark in my novel, I pulled myself to my feet before making my way to my small bedroom. Peering into my closet, my eyes closed in on the black dress. It still had the tags on.

Caroline's words seemed to echo in the back of my mind.

**"****C'mon! Live a little!"**

** "****Loosen up, you are so high strung!"**

** "****Have some fun Sarah!"**

Maybe I should have some fun. It's been so long since I've had a good time and let myself loosen up. Then again, that was for a good reason.

But if I wore the dress, Caroline might not make me go out for a while.

Might.

Giving into what Caroline wanted, I pulled the dress out of the closet, and quickly changed into the black dress, grabbing a pair of heels that I hoped went well enough. I took a glance in the mirror before deciding to put my hair down. As much as I felt uncomfortable in the dress, I had to admit Caroline had good taste. The fabric felt satiny and smooth. Seeing I had a few more minutes before I had to leave, I decided to throw on a red lipstick and fix up my day makeup. Taking one last glance in the mirror before I left, I decided I was decent enough.

Grabbing my bag and a warm coat, I locked my door behind me as I began the trek to Barry's Bar. Usually, I would call an Uber, but I decided that the walk wasn't too bad and besides, I would definitely be calling an Uber home.

Before I knew it, I had reached the bar. It wasn't a college town bar, but it was still a fun place to get "absolutely sloshed" as Caroline eloquently put it.

I walked in and made a bee-line for the bar, where Caroline was already sipping on a beer.

"Oh my God, Sarah! You look so hot!" Caroline said, giving me a hug. I laughed before glancing at her.

"Yeah, and you're one to talk… Look at you!" I said, gesturing to her. Caroline was the kind of girl who always lived life wildly. She was wearing a tight yellow dress with cutouts. Her dark skin was smooth and her natural hair was big, just like her personality. Caroline told me that she she had refused to straighten her hair once she turned 16, saying that she wanted to embrace her roots and her heritage.

"Get a drink! First round is on me!" she said sipping her beer. "And then… we dance!" I laughed at her antics before ordering a cider. I had never loved the taste of beer, and I could only stomach wine with meals, so ciders were my drink of choice.

"C'mon, let's go dance!" Caroline said, grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the dance floor. It wasn't terribly crowded, given that it was a Wednesday night, but there were plenty of people dancing and drinking.

I felt myself relaxing as I danced to the beat, feeling the affect of alcohol in my system. I glanced at Caroline who had been by my side minutes before, as she flirted with a man who had bought her a drink.

At least she warned me that she would go in for it.

I stiffened as I felt two hands on my waist.

"Hey baby," came a voice from behind me. I wrinkled my nose as I could smell the beer on his breath. He wouldn't remember this in the morning.

"You have exactly 10 seconds to remove your hands from my waist before I destroy any chance of you having kids," I said.

"What?"

"Ten…nine…eight…" I said, turning to face him.

"Geez! I got it lady!" He said walking away from me, murmuring something about "crazy bitches."

Typical.

I made my way to the bar, glancing at Caroline. She was definitely into this guy, so I wasn't going to interrupt.

"Can I get another cider?" I asked the bartender, "Thanks."

I sat at the bar, checking the time. Only 10:23PM. Great. No way Caroline would let me leave till 11PM at the earliest.

Sipping my cider, I surveyed the people at the bar. Most were 20s to 30s, with some older people eating at the booths on the other side of the bar. Some were in groups, others by themselves.

My vision closed in on the group drinking together, standing a table on the other side of the bar. One was dressed very formally while the others were more casual. I felt my eyes widen as I realized it was Hotch.

Not wanting to have another awkward interaction, especially when I was already out of my comfort zone, I whispered my goodbyes to Caroline and snuck out, calling my Uber, to get back to the comforting walls of my apartment.


	5. CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning, I woke up and went to my yoga class, per routine. As I left the studio and made my way to Backroads Coffee, I found myself looking for that suit. And, as I suspected, he was already there, paying for his coffee.

I got behind him, hoping he wouldn't notice me.

But, alas, when do we ever get something we want, especially something as trivial as not being noticed but someone we are actively trying to avoid.

"Sarah?"

I fought back the urge to let out a frustrated groan.

"Hotch! Hi, it's good to see you again. How did the game go?" I said, trying to make some small talk while I waited for Jen to finish making his coffee.

"Well, they don't keep score at Jack's age, but if they did, we would've won. Needless to say, the boys were very excited," he said, a chuckle escaping.

"That's good."

We stood in silence, and I didn't know if I should say something. Just as I was about to ask another needless question, Hotch asked me one first.

"So, do you come here often?"

"Here? Oh, um, yeah. Every morning. It's one of the first places I found when I moved here."

"How long have you been here?"

"About three years now," I said, wondering what was taking Jen so long. I didn't need Hotch asking too many questions.

"Where'd you move from?" he asked. It was an innocent question, but I felt myself freeze up as my brain searched for the information listed on the sheet that was tucked away in my apartment's safe.

"Western part of Montana. Small town called Whitefish. You probably haven't heard of it."

"How'd you find yourself here?"

"I just… needed a change of scenery, I guess?" I never had an official reason, so I always pulled this one if anyone asked.

"Aaron? Your coffee is ready!" came Jen's voice. I let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Nice to see you again Sarah. See you around." And with that, Hotch began to leave.

"Yeah… see you around…" I murmured. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, there was no getting rid of Aaron Hotchner.

As he left, I couldn't help but feel his eyes on me.

What if he knew something?

Something he shouldn't?

"The regular?" Jen asked, interrupting my train of thought.

"Yeah… the regular…" I said, handing her the money and feeling more exposed than I had in years.

The next few weeks continued like this, with Hotch and I making small talk every day. I slowly resigned myself to the idea of having another friend, even if he was over a decade older than me.

"So wait, you work with the FBI?" I asked one morning as I sat waiting for my coffee.

"With the Behavioral Analysis Unit," he said, sipping his coffee as he sat down with me.

"Sounds intense."

"That's one way to put it…"

"So what exactly do you do? Catch pyschos?"

"We analyze criminal behavior and create a profile to help local police force catch the criminal… so, yes, kind of."

"Sounds much more interesting than my desk job," I said, smiling.

"Secretary at the PR firm, right?"

"Yep."

"Enjoy it?"

"The work and people are boring, but it pays the bills, so I guess I can't complain.

"So I take it that you don't have many friends through work?"

"Not really, no… Haven't had a ton of opportunities to make too many acquaintances," I said, hoping he wouldn't dig any further.

Luckily, I was saved.

"Sarah? Your coffee is ready!" came Jen's voice.

"Thanks," I said, getting up to grab my drink.

"It was nice to see you again," I said, gathering my bag, "But I should let you get to work."

"You too," he said. He offered his hand for a handshake, and I obliged.

"See you around," I said heading the door of the shop.

"Wait, Sarah," he said, just as I had opened the door.

"Yeah?"

"You remember Rossi? You met him at the park before Jack's game?"

"Yeah?" I asked, confused as to where this was going,

"He's inviting a bunch of coworkers over for dinner tonight, and you said you didn't know a bunch of people, so if you want, I'm sure Rossi would be more than happy to have you over as well."

I felt my gut tighten. More people? That seemed problematic.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," I said, but Hotch waved his hand saying, "It's no problem, I'm sure."

I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. But there was something friendly about Hotch. He reminded me of the older brother that I had often craved when I was younger. Besides, my dinner plans were likely the leftovers I had in my fridge.

"You know what? I'd love to, as long as Rossi is fine with me coming. Is there an address?"

"Yeah," Hotch said, "One second."

He gave me the address, which I realized I would be Ubering to, and his phone number in case I got lost or needed anything.

"Ok, I'll see you tonight? Around 8:30?" I asked.

"Sounds good," Hotch said, "See you then."

We said our good byes as I made my way my apartment. I hoped it would be nice to meet some more people. Besides, I had been here for almost three years. The investigation showed no chance of ending, so I might as well have some roots here.

I just had to be careful not to get too attached here.

Afterall, this was all a lie.


	6. CHAPTER FIVE

As I entered my apartment after another long day that was mind-numbingly dull, I kicked off my shoes and rushed to my couch, sinking into the comfortable plush.

I cannot believe that I agreed to have dinner with a bunch of strangers.

And FBI strangers at that.

Well, at least they wouldn't kill me.

But that didn't mean that I should let my guard down.

Rummaging through my bag for my phone, I found the number I had only messaged once before. Saved under the contact name, Debra Allen, it was the best way to hide my way of contacting Daniel.

_Hi- everything is fine. Can you run brief background on an Aaron Hotchner of the FBI and co-workers? Having dinner and want to make sure we are in the clear. Thanks. Let me know if anything stands out._

I tried to avoid texting him, with the only other time asking for a background on Caroline. He was busy and no doubt I was some kind of burden. Setting my phone down, I decided to close my eyes for a short nap before changing into something more casual for a dinner with a bunch of coworkers.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I always let my mind drift to before. Before my whole life got uprooted and everything changed. It was the one thing that I had that couldn't be taken from me.

Smiling, I let myself dream of the past, not delving into many details, but remembering the basics. The sun on my face as I walked along the coastline, the smell of my mom's homemade lasagna, the sound of my nephew's laughter… it was all so distant yet so clear. I remember my friends, my job, my family, my life. It is so perfect.

_Was_.

It was so perfect.

I opened my eyes and checked the time. It was already 8 o'clock.

I sighed and decided that I should probably get into something a little more comfortable. After all, it was at coworker's house, so it shouldn't be too formal.

Getting up, I walked to my bedroom where I picked out a dark pair of jeans with a light green top. Deciding I needed a break from the heels, I grabbed a pair of flats. I pulled my hair out of the traditional ponytail it was in, and brushing it quickly, spraying a little dry shampoo at my roots. Whipping out my phone, I called my Uber, which meant I had a few minutes.

Do people bring things this kind of thing?

I didn't have enough time to make anything and I doubted anything I had would fit, seeing as I didn't even know what we would be eating. Then a buzz from my phone pulled me from my thoughts.

_This is Hotch. Rossi said you are welcome to join. See you there._

I typed out a quick response.

_Perfect. Will be on my way shortly._

I grabbed my purse and ensured I had everything I needed.

ID? Check.

Wallet? Check.

Taser? Check.

Pack of gum? Check.

Phone? Check.

Keys? Check.

Receipt from last week's McDonald's run? Thrown in the trash.

Giving myself one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my purse and headed down to the street where my Uber was waiting.

"Thank you," I said to the driver, a little old man who gave me a smile before pulling to the road. Rossi lived about 30 minutes away, which meant I had enough time to brush up on my history.

My name is Sarah Bennett.

I am 29 years old.

I was born and raised in Whitefish, Montana.

My parents died when I was 19 years old in a car accident near Whitefish Lake.

I have no living relatives.

I went to college at Carroll College, where I majored in Communications Studies.

I moved to Stafford, Virginia 3 years ago for a change in scenery.

My best friend is Caroline Mays.

And I am completely harmless and ordinary.

Hopefully, nothing would sound off alarm bells in a room full of people specialized in behavior. Just then my phone buzzed. It was from Debra Allen. AKA Daniel.

_Nothing popped up. Be careful. Check-in when you are home._

Letting out a breath, I looked out the window to realize we were nearly there.

"Thank you… Have a good evening sir," I said to the driver as I got out of the car. I looked at the house. It was a nice white house, with the lights emulating it with yellow tones. There were already two cars here, so I hoped I wasn't too early. I slowly made my way to the door before knocking, hesitantly.

I waited a second.

Then another.

Maybe I had the wrong house?

Just as I was about to message Hotch for the address again, the door opened.

"Ah, Sarah, right?" came the voice of none other than Rossi.

"Yes, and thank you for letting me crash your dinner party Rossi," I said, offering my hand for a shake.

"Ah, it's no problem, really. And besides, the team at least gave me some notice this time," he said chuckling. "Come in! Just JJ and Morgan are here, but everyone else will be here soon."

I took a step into the house, immediately appreciating the beautiful handiwork.

"Follow me to the kitchen?" Rossi said, walking ahead of me. I followed and found myself in the kitchen with two other strangers.

"Rossi, who's this?" said the man, giving me a once-over. He was definitely intimidating and could squash me like a bug if he wanted to. Next to him was a blond woman, who was gazing at me with a sense of confusion.

"This is Sarah Bennett, and Hotch invited her to join us tonight as I attempt to teach you kids how to cook a decent Italian dish," Rossi said, before looking at me, "This is Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau."

"Everyone calls me JJ," says the blonde, sticking out her hand to shake mine, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you both," I said, shaking JJ's hand before shaking Morgan's hand.

"So how do you know Hotch?" Morgan asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"We get coffee at the same coffee shop and talk every now and then," I said. "He invited me because I don't get out much or have much of a social life."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Sarah," Morgan said.

"Now Sarah, have you ever made a carbonara?" came Rossi from behind me.

"Yes, I actually studied abroad in Italy for a semester in college," I said.

"Ah, do you speak the language?" he asked.

"A little bit, but I am definitely a little rusty since college," I said, letting out a small laugh.

"It's nice to know there's someone who has a little taste," he said, giving Morgan and JJ a look.

"Hey, now that's not very fair," Morgan said, but I could tell by the look on his face that they were joking, like one big happy family.

Then a knock came from the door.

"Ah that must be Emily and Hotch! One second," Rossi said, walking to the front door.

This was going to be a long night.


	7. CHAPTER SIX

"Sarah, glad you could make it," came Hotch's voice from behind me. I turned and gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you for inviting me," I said, glancing at the dark-haired woman behind him, "And you must be Emily?"

"Yes, it's nice to meet you," she said, shaking my hand firmly.

"No Reid?" came JJ's voice, and I could tell by her tone she was disappointed, although I didn't know why.

"We'll see," said Morgan, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Then there came the sound of the door opening, along with a voice.

"I'm here! Do not start without me!" I peered behind Hotch and Emily to see another blonde woman, dressed very colorfully with glasses, making her way inside.

"And that," Rossi said, giving me a look, "would be Penelope Garcia."

"Oh, you must be Sarah Bennett!" Penelope said, going in for a hug. I stiffened up, but awkwardly returned the hug.

"I take it you know me?" I asked.

"Hotch mentioned that we would be having a guest with us for dinner and gave me your name!" she said excitedly.

Interesting.

"Shall we start the carbonara lesson?" Rossi said. "The pasta is almost ready to be drained."

"Ah, not without the expensive, fancy wine!" Emily said, pointing a finger at Rossi humorously. Rossi laughed before grabbing a bottle of red wine and wine glasses. He handed me mine and I thanked him and he turned and drained his pasta.

"Cooking is the most sensual artform," Rossi began, going on about how the ingredients were his paints. Not the analogy I would have used, but to each his own.

"Cook your pasta until it is al dente, and firm to the tooth," he continued, taking a few noodles, "Go ahead pass it around, feel the texture…" I smiled as I felt the pasta, sticky and firm, before eating it quickly.

"Now, in a large pan, we fry up the pancetta until the edges are crisp," Rossi said, showing us before Hotch interrupted.

"Being careful not to burn the onions."

"Bravo Hotch! Now we sautee till translucent." Rossi continue but then there was the sound of the doorbell ringing.

"I'll get it," Morgan said, getting up.

"Grazie mille," Rossi said, continuing his demonstration. "We mix in the eggs, the parmesan, the spaghetti, and some of the pasta water, and toss like so…" He was making it very traditional which I appreciated, as sometimes Italian food became overly Americanized.

"If you don't feel yourself doing it properly, please, just order a pizza," Rossi continued, earning a chuckle from everyone in the room.

"Sorry I'm late," came an unfamiliar voice. I turned to see a tall man with brown hair walking in with Morgan.

"See? This is why I cook alone," Rossi said, giving the newcomer a look.

"So, when do we get to drink the wine?" Emily asked, raising her glass with a knowing look.

"Soon. We are going to start at the beginning. You eat what you cook under my supervision. We are doing this together, like a family." Rossi said. Immediately I felt out of place. This wasn't just a group of coworkers. This was a family all on its own. And I felt like an intruder.

"Okay, now?"

"Now." Rossi affirmed, as everyone began to clink their glasses together. I only clinked maybe two before I downed a big sip.

This was going to be a long night.

Soon enough, everyone had successfully, to some degree, created an edible carbonara.

"Do I know you?" came a voice as I sipped my wine, waiting for everyone to sit at a table. I turned to see it was the man who had been late.

"Sorry, I'm Sarah Bennett. Hotch invited me to meet all of you," I said. "I would shake your hand except my hands are rather full at the moment."

"You know, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss," he said, not breaking eye contact.

"Really? Huh…" I said, processing that factoid. "Got to say, that's kind of alarming."

"Recent studies actually have found that cell phones carry anywhere from seven to ten times more bacteria that most toilet seats," he continued.

"That's almost enough to make me a germophobe," I said, giving him a smile.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid."

Giving him a nod, we made our way to the table. I found myself seated between Hotch and JJ.

"So Sarah, Hotch hasn't told us anything about you? Care to share?" Emily asked.

"Oh, well, um, let's see? I'm Sarah Bennett, obviously," I said, mentally smacking myself in the face. They already knew my name. Stupid. "I'm 29 years old, and was born and raised in Whitefish, Montana. I moved to Virginia about three years ago and I currently work in a secretarial position at Bolt PR."

Everyone nodded their head in approval.

"So how did you find your way from Montana to Virginia. I mean Whitefish is a small town, right? How'd you find yourself in a town so close to Quantico? Had to be some culture shock, right?" JJ asked.

"Just needed a change of scenery. Small town, small minded people," I said, giving a shrug, and hoping they wouldn't dig any more.

"I understand the small town thing. I grew up outside of Pittsburgh on a farm," she said with a laugh.

"So how about you guys? Tell me a little bit about you?" I asked, wanting to get their attention off of me.

Slowly, everyone began to open up. JJ served as a communications liaison for the team until recently when she received the training to be a full-time profiler. She had a son named Henry. Hotch was the leader of the team. I already knew about Jack. Rossi was a three-time divorcee and was proud of his Italian roots. Morgan grew up in Chicago and was resident bad-cop. Emily travelled around when she was little and had a cat named Sergio. Penelope was the technical analyst who loved all things happy and bright. Spencer was the genius of the team with threes BAs and two PhDs.

"Wow, you guys are just a crew of real-life superheroes, aren't you?" I said, relaxing as I let out a chuckle.

The conversation ensued as they began to discuss more about their home lives. I felt slightly out of place. I felt myself start to freeze up.

"Sarah… you okay?" JJ asked me softly, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, yeah… I'm fine," I said, plastering on a smile. She gave me a look that clearly said that she didn't believe me, but, thankfully, she didn't push on the subject.

"Here, let me show you a picture of Henry," she said pulling out her phone. She went through a few pictures before showing me a blonde-haired little boy smiling as he played with his trains.

"He is just precious," I said. "Is that Thomas the Tank Engine?"

"Yeah, he is heavy in the train phase right now," JJ said, looking at the picture with so much love in her eyes.

"The train phase is a fun one," I said.

"Siblings?"

"What?" I broke my gaze from the photo.

"Train phase, do you have siblings?" JJ asked.

"Oh, um, no, I don't. I just did a lot of babysitting back home," I said, internally scolding myself. I almost completely blew it. Luckily, JJ seemed to buy it. Soon her attention was grabbed by Emily, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

I scanned the people at the table. Most of them seemed relaxed except for Spencer, who seemed to fidget slightly as he sat. His eyes caught mine and I instantly looked away, beginning to pick at my fingers.

I glanced at my phone and saw that it was almost 10:30.

"Oh! I should get heading out, or else I'll get caught with a sketchy Uber driver," I said.

"Where do you live?" Morgan asked.

"In Stafford about five blocks from the courthouse," I said. "It's about a 30-minute drive from here."

"Reid, isn't your apartment complex located right around there?" Morgan asked.

Shit.

"Yeah," Spencer said, before glancing at me. "I could give you a ride."

"Oh, I don't want to inconvenience you," I said.

"It wouldn't be an inconvenience, and it is actually more environmentally conscious to take one car instead of two," Spencer said.

I wasn't into the idea of a near complete stranger knowing where I lived.

But Daniel had said that they were clean.

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good," I said, giving him a small smile. "Thank you."

Spencer gave me a small nod as Rossi announced dessert, but "only if we all cleaned our own dishes." After Morgan made a few jokes about everyone being a child in Rossi's house, we all gathered the dishes and headed back to the kitchen.

"And now for some tiramisu," Rossi said, unveiling the dessert. Before I knew it, I was handed a slice on a plate along with a small fork.

"Oh my God, this is amazing," Penelope said, after taking one bite. I ate a bite and instantly agreed with her.

We all stood, eating our desserts. Everyone became engaged in small talk, leaving me with Penelope.

"So Sarah, tell me about you… and not like the generic background search stuff I could find with a few key strokes," she said, laughing. I froze at the mention of background checks. Could she really find out information about me that quickly? Everything should be sealed and hidden, but you never knew. I mean, this was the FBI for goodness sake.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I responded.

"Oh, um, well I like to read murder-mysteries and I love listening to music? I take yoga and pilates classes, but quite honestly I'm really rather boring."

"What about social life? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Oh no, as I said, haven't found time for much social interaction," I said.

"Ya know, a pretty girl like you, I have quite a few men I know who I could set you up with," she said, giving me a wink.

"I'm good for now, but I'll let you know if that changes," I said, relaxing into the conversation. She reminded me of Caroline.

Soon Garcia was telling me about her boyfriend and her relationship with "chocolate thunder" AKA Derek Morgan. She would definitely get along with Caroline. No doubt there.

Not much time had passed before people began to depart.

"Hotch!" I said, grabbing his arm before he left. "Thanks for letting me tag along tonight. You have a great group of people here."

"I'm just glad you could meet some people," he said. "You needed it… Have a good night."

I needed it?

Did he _profile_ me?

Son of a bitch.

"Night Hotch," I said, internally rolling my eyes.

"I'm about to leave, if you still want that ride?" Spencer said from behind me,

"Yeah, uh, just one second," I said making my way to Rossi.

"Rossi? I just wanted to thank you for letting me crash your dinner plans tonight, it was very kind of you."

"Thank you for coming Sarah. È stato bello rivederti."

"E tu. Buonasera Rossi," I said, giving him a small wink at the Italian. I turned to see Spencer waiting.

"Lead the way," I said to Spencer.

This was going to one interesting car ride.


	8. CHAPTER SEVEN

Once I gave Spencer my address, he began to drive. We sat in silence for a few minutes. He seemed focused on the road in front of him, sitting straight and rigid. I began to pick at my fingernails, the quiet bugging me.

"Are you stressed about something?"

"What?" I said, turning to look at Spencer.

"Are you stressed about something?" he said, removing his eyes from the road and glancing at me. "You're picking at the skin around your nails. Picking at your skin is considered a type of body-focused repetitive behavior, and it's often associated with stress or anxiety."

"Oh," I said, clearing my throat. "Not really, just thinking about too much." Spencer looked at me again, a look that clearly said that he didn't believe me, but he didn't push it.

Silence was again overcame the car.

"You know," I said, trying to come up with something to talk about, "You look awfully young to have three PhDs as well as two BAs. What's the secret?"

"I graduated from high school when I was 12 and then went to Caltech before finishing my undergrad when I was 16. I got my three PhDs over the next four years, before joining the FBI when I was 21," Spencer said, not removing his eyes from the road. I saw his hands tighten on the wheel, and could tell that he wasn't a huge fan of driving.

"You literally are a genius," I said, letting out a small laugh.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but based upon societal notions, I have an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words a minute, and have an eidetic memory," he said, giving me a small smile. "So yeah, I guess I am literally a genius."

"Damn, 20,000 words a minute… If I had that I could finally finish my list of books," I said.

"It is helpful in that respect… What kind of books do you read?"

"Mostly murder-mysteries, but I also have a soft spot for any feminist-dystopian novels," I said. "You can thank _The Handmaid's Tale_ for that."

"I mostly read scientific fiction or nonfiction myself," Spencer said.

"Any recommendations? Always trying to broaden my library."

"Depends. Nonfiction or scientific fiction?"

"Honestly? Anything. Doesn't even have to be in those categories."

"I have a fascination with Arthur Conan Doyle-" Spencer began.

"Sherlock Holmes guy, right?" I asked, before realizing I interrupted him. "Sorry."

"Yes, he wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories, but his book _The Mystery of Cloomber_ is a good one."

"Noted. I'll have to see if I can check it out or buy it somewhere."

"If you can't find it, I could lend it to you," Spencer offered, but I waved a hand dismissing it.

"No, I'm sure I'll be able to find it."

"Just let me know."

"I will," I said.

Silence.  
Again.

"So you met Hotch at a coffee shop?" Spencer said, interrupting the silence. Seemed that we both didn't like the awkward lack of conversation.

"Yeah, Backroads Coffee? I go there pretty much every day and we talk for a few minutes every morning," I said.

"Every day?"

"Yeah," I said, letting out a short laugh. "I'm a sucker for their mochas. I don't understand how Hotch can drink his coffee completely black."

"I have to put sugar and cream in it before I can even think of drinking it, otherwise, it's too bitter and acidic.

"Exactly! Although, I find that the chocolate syrup adds an extra level of protection from the battery acid he calls coffee," I said, laughing.

"In Central and South America, there's a plant called _psychotria nervosa_, or wild coffee, which produces a small, red fruit. This species is not known to contain any caffeine and instead can cause headaches, and if induced in excessive quantities, other potentially dangerous side effects can occur. It's actually rather interesting how something so far removed from coffee is commonly known as wild coffee," Spencer said. It was funny. He got so excited talking about it that his grip of the wheel relaxed. It seemed as if reciting random facts put him at ease.

"That's crazy," I said. Then another thought occurred to me. "So eidetic memory is photographic memory, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you never forget anything you see?"

"No, I don't."

"Wow," I said, slightly amazed. "That's got to be useful but kind of a curse, right?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like you can never forget anything you see, right? So, every case you work, you remember all the details? I mean, I don't know exactly what stuff you guys see on the job, but chasing after the crazies… well, there's a reason they're considered crazy."

Spencer looked at me quizzically, before turning back to the road.

"Never thought of it that way before, but yes. I guess it is a curse, but it's worth it to remember the things you would never want to forget."

Now I didn't have an eidetic memory, but I felt a deep pang in my gut. There were somethings that people could never forget as hard as they tried.

"And I think we are here?" Spencer asked. I looked out the window to see the familiar apartment building.

"Yes, this is me," I said, before gesturing to the sidewalk. "You can just pull up there… Thank you again, you saved me a solid $30."

"It was really no problem," Spencer said, putting the car in park. I grabbed my bag and was about to say goodnight when Spencer spoke again.

"Let me give you my number so you can let me know if you can't find _The Mystery of Cloomber_," he said, grabbing a small piece of paper and scribbling some numbers on it.

"Oh, ok… thanks… well, have a good night?" I said taking the paper and giving him a wave.

He returned the sentiment, and I watched as he drove off. I glanced at the paper and smiled as I saw his number written in sloppy handwriting. Walking into my apartment and locking the door, I put his contact into my phone before sending a quick message.

_This is Sarah- thanks again for the ride. :)_

Maybe one more friend wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.


	9. CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I woke up eagerly. It's a Saturday so I have nothing to do, technically. Rolling out of bed, I look to see an unread text message from Debra AKA Daniel.

Shit. I forgot to send him a message when I got back last night.

_Meet at usual spot if everything is fine noon. If not, alert will be sent._

Sometimes I really wished that he wouldn't be breathing down my neck as much. He could literally just ask "Are you ok? Confirm please" and we could avoid an unnecessary check-in. But then again, I understood the concern.

Throwing my hair in a ponytail, I got changed into some running clothes. Checking the time, I realized it was only 10am. Maybe I could go for a longer run today?

Checking the map app on my phone, I quickly mapped out a longer run utilizing some of the smaller trails leading to the park. After I meet Daniel, I could go see if I could find that book at the local library and local bookstore.

I grabbed my headphones and plugged them into my phone. I locked the door behind me, walking down the stairs to the street access point. I looked outside, seeing it was cool and cloudy. It was nice weather for running, but was colder than I would like, personally. Clicking play on my running playlist, I began running down the street, until I hit the trails.

I had decided to take a trail through the woods, as I often missed that aspect of running. The streets were fine, but they were so open and bare, nothing compared to the seclusion of wooded trails.

It was peaceful and I could feel the air on my skin and the vibrations of my feet hitting the ground. It was now February, and the trees were bare. The leaves made soft crunching noises with every step I took.

I lost myself in my pace and the feeling of running free, and before I knew it, I had reached the park. Pulling my phone out I was it was only 11:30. Still had half an hour before I would meet Daniel. I pulled my headphones out, and decided that I could stretch. It was just cold enough to dissuade people from coming to the park, so there were a few dogwalkers, a few families playing ball, and then some of the other individuals minding their own business.

A few stretches in and I saw a familiar suited man sit at the third bench from the lamppost. Checking the time, I saw it was 11:55. I guess I could head over a few minutes early.

I sat next to him.

"You're early today," he said, scanning the area before us.

"Decided to take a run."

"You didn't text me last night."

"I got back late… It just slipped my mind."

"You know the dangers of 'mind slips,' don't you?"

"Yes, and I am really sorry. It's also my first one in three years so you really can't fault me-" I began to ramble before he cut me off.

"We are letting you off with a warning. But be careful. Ruining the routine leads to slip-ups. You know that."

"I do," I said, my gut tightening at the thought.

"Here," he said, grabbing an envelope from his pocket. "We got notifications that someone is looking into a background check for you, so we beefed up your background. Learn it. Live it."

I stared at the envelope that likely held more fictional "facts" about me. No doubt one of the people I met, likely Penelope, had tried to pry into my past to know who they were meeting.

"Thanks," I said, tucking it into my waistband.

"See you next month."

"Yes," I said. No later had the words left my mouth then Daniel had gotten up and left.

I stared after him, and began to wonder where he went to. I knew his first name only, yet he knew everything about me, both in this file and not.

Getting up, I began to walk to the local Stafford Library, which was about half a mile away. It wasn't a bad walk, but I began to feel cold, as I was no longer running.

The library wasn't large but was enough to house the book needs of the Stafford community. There was rarely more than ten people, excluding the librarian, there at a time, especially on a Saturday afternoon.

"Ms. Bennett, good to see you," came the voice of Patricia Everglades. Patricia was an older woman, short and round with small little glasses. She had let her grey hair grow long, not opting for the shorter haircut most women of her age did. She was often cheery.

"Hello Patricia, and please, it's Sarah," I said, reminding her to not call me by my last name.

"Well, _Sarah_, how can I help you today?"

"A friend of mine recommended a book and I was wondering if the library had it?"

"Here let me pull up the directory," she said, glaring at the computer screen with a profound hatred. "Name and author?"

"Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Mystery of Cloomber_?"

"One second… Yes, we do have it, let me just write the call number down for you… and there you are!" she said, scribbling the number on a scrap of paper for me.

"Thank you, and I'll be back in just a second," I said, giving her a smile as I made my way to the section where the book lay.

"And there you are!" I said, triumphantly pulling the book from the shelf. It had taken me a few minutes, but soon enough I held the prized book in my hands. I then made my way back to Patricia.

"Can I check this out?" I asked, handing her the book.

"Just one?" she said teasingly.

"Don't worry, I will be back soon enough!" I said, laughing.

"Alrighty, and there you go. Enjoy!"

"I will and have a nice day!" I said, holding the book close to my chest. I left the library and decided that a quick coffee would be a nice treat to take back to my apartment to read the book. Making my way to Backroads Coffee, I decided that I would also get a sweet treat.

I deserved it after that run.

Chuckling to myself as I entered the shop, I walked to the counter.

"Jen, can I get the regular and a bear claw?"

"Someone's feeling fancy!" she said, smiling as she rung up my total. I paid my cost before making my way to the table. I looked at the book for the first time, noting the green and tan cover. It hadn't been read much as evident by the lack of discoloration from oils.

"Sarah?" I looked up and saw Jen was standing with my mocha and treat.

"Thanks," I said, turning to leave, but not before stopping before a familiar tall figure.

"Spencer?" I asked. He gave me a small smile before saying, "You said the mochas were good so I figured I'd try. I see you found the book?"

"Yeah, I did find the book," I said. "And I'm looking forward to reading it."

"That's good."

"Are you staying or…"

"I prefer to sit and drink my coffee."

"If you want, I could stay and keep you company?" I asked. Why would I offer that? Stupid. He probably wants to be alone.

"I'm planning on rereading _Pride and Prejudice_ and some case files, so if you want to join me in reading, feel free."

"I think I will," I said, sitting down at a table as Spencer walked to the counter and ordered his drink.

Hopefully, he didn't spoil my book.


	10. CHAPTER NINE

After Spencer paid for his order, he joined me at the table and pulled out his reading. We sat in quiet, not talking, just reading our respective books. After a few minutes, I peered over to see how much he had finished.

He was nearly a quarter of the way finished.

"Holy shit, you weren't kidding about the reading thing, were you? Like you aren't skimming over it?"

"I'm reading it," he said as if it was the most common-sensical thing in the world.

"That's impressive… how many words is _Pride and Prejudice_?"

"122,189 words which means there are roughly 2,118 paragraphs, which an average of 58 words per paragraph."

"And you just _know_ that?"

"It's a mathematical formula, you just have to know the word count and applying the average paragraph count you can estimate it," he said.

"Wow, your brain just works in an interesting way, huh?"

"It's not as much as the way my brain works, but more so the training of the brain to work for you to increase efficiency and efficacy."

"If only we all did that… imagine where we would be as a society…" I mused. Spencer gave me a nod before returning to his reading. Then came Jen's voice saying that his order was ready. As he got up to get his drink, I noticed how tall he was for the first time. He easily towered over me. He returned to the table with his drink.

He took a sip and he gave a nod of approval, and I gave a small smile. We then sat in silence, but unlike the silence that ensued in the car ride the night prior, this wasn't awkward. It was relaxed, almost friendly.

_Friendly._

Were we friends?

Do I want to be friends with him?

I had only known him for less than 24 hours. But he was friends with Hotch, who I trusted. Plus, they were FBI, so they weren't threats to me.

Speaking of FBI, how did this tall, thin man become an agent? I'm sure there were physical requirements.

"So how did you get involved with the FBI?" I asked. Spencer glanced up at me before responding.

"I joined when I was 21 years old, aceing all my psychological exams, which warranted waivers for the more physical aspects of training," he said giving me a knowing look.

"Did you just profile me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. There is no way he knew what I was thinking, right?

"You looked at me, before tilting your head. Your eyes unconsciously wandered to my legs and gun holster, so you had a question about my qualifications for carrying a gun and FBI, thus most likely meant you were wondering if I could physically be an FBI agent," he said setting down his book.

"Now that's just terrifying," I murmured. How much could he pull from just interacting with me?

"It's very useful in criminal interrogations."

"I'd imagine…What's the biggest thing you see in people when they are trying to hide something?"

"Why?" he asked, glancing up from his case files.

"I don't know, it just sounds interesting."

"Typically, when people lie, they have a tendency to hide their mouths or eyes, some people even blink rapidly. Very commonly, people will clear their throats or begin to swallow before answering the question, but of course it varies from person to person." Spencer said.

Noted.

"Wait, so you aren't at work, yet you bring case files to read with _Pride and Prejudice_? Is this your idea of fun?" I asked as Spencer zeroed in on his case files again.

"I find the book enjoyable, and I need to review these cases to ensure the reports are accurate."

"So you are a proponent of mixing work and pleasure, good to know," I said, laughing. Reid gave me a puzzled look and at this, I explained, "It's a joke Spencer." He gave me a half-hearted laugh, before I asked him another question.

"What do you do when you aren't reading or working on a case?"

"I occasionally write research studies or give lectures on behalf of the BAU."

"So you don't do anything, 'non-scholarly' for fun?" I asked. "Nothing to take your mind off of what you do? I mean, some of that stuff has to be pretty brutal."

"I guess I don't."

Thinking for a moment, I stood up suddenly.

"Come on," I said, gesturing for him to get up. "Let's go."

"No, thanks, I have to read," he said, going back to reading a case file.

"Yeah, no," I said, grabbing it from under him. "I have nothing except grocery shopping to do today, and we are going to be spontaneous."

"I really can't today because-" he started, but I cut him off.

"Spencer Reid, I thought I was the most mundane and boring person in the world," I said, grinning. "I am giving you a chance to prove that I am more deserving of that title than you."

"What would we even do?"

"That's the point of being spontaneous, Dr. Reid. There's absolutely no plan."

What was I doing?

I had to be careful, but there was something in my gut, spurring me on.

I could almost hear Caroline in my head saying, "That's a girl! Live a little!"

I hadn't done anything like this in years, and yet when I saw Spencer resign and get up to join me, I knew that this adventure had only just begun.

And I had no idea where the destination was.

But I was ready for one hell of ride, even if it was just today.

And with that, I handed him his files, and walked out the shop, Spencer only steps behind me. The cold hair hit my face and I turned at looked at him with a wide grin on my face.

"What shall we do first, Doctor Reid?"


	11. CHAPTER TEN

About 20 minutes after we left the coffee shop, we found ourselves in front of a building called "The Cavalier Family Skating Center."

"You ever roller skated?" I asked.

"No, I haven't."

"Well then, I think I found the first thing that we are going to do!" Grinning, I dragged Spencer into the building. It was darkly lit, with strobe lights flickering over the shiny wooden floors. There were old, cheap arcade games against the walls. There was a small food stand that probably sold mostly generic sodas, soggy pizza, and the occasional salty popcorn. Next to that, was the renting counter for skates.

Perfect.

"What size are your feet?" I asked, dragging him by the arm.

"What?" he said, his voice going up a few pitches.

"For the skates?" I said, rolling my eyes. "I need to know your foot size so I can rent a pair for you?"

"I can pay for my own."

"No way. I made you come on an adventure, so my treat. Now what size?" I gave him a look that I hoped said, 'Don't argue with me.'

"Size 10," Spencer said, before adding, "Thanks."

"No worries!" I said, walking up to the counter. There was a teenaged boy sitting there on his phone. His name tag said Tom, and he looked very bored.

"Hi," I said, grabbing his attention. "Can I get two pairs of skates?"

"Sizes?" he asked, his voice dead. He really hated his job.

"A men's size 10 and a women's size 7?" I asked.

"That'll be $19.36."

"Here," I said, handing him my card.

"Let me go grab the skates for you," he said, handing me my card. I slipped it back into the pocket on the back of my phone.

"Here," the teen said, setting the two pairs of skates on the counter. "Return these when you're done and have a good time."

"Thanks," I said, grabbing both pairs of skates and turning to return to Spencer, who was standing by one of the claw games. "I got the skates!"

"Did you know that most claw machines are adjustable in relations to how often a claw will grab a prize with their full strength, a way to manage losses and wins so as to ensure that profits will remain higher?" Spencer said, briefly breaking his gaze with the machine to grab his skates from my hands.

"If you mean, did I know it was rigged? Then yeah," I said, laughing. "I was such a sucker for these games when I was little. There was this one in an arcade by my house, and I was obsessed with this little pink elephant. It was cheap as hell, but I wanted it so bad." I guided Spencer over to a bench where I began to untie my shoes.

"Did you ever win it?"

"No, as we discussed, it was rigged," I said, giving a small shrug, setting my shoes, book, and phone next to me as I reached for the skates. "Within two weeks of me making it my personal mission to get it, it disappeared from the claw machine." With my skates now on, I slowly waddled over to a cubby. I placed my items in, only now remembering the envelope tucked into my waistband. Turning around, I saw Spencer was still struggling to put his skates on. I quickly snuck the envelope into a random page in my book. I waddled back over to Spencer, who was now struggling to stand-up.

"Want me to put your stuff away?" I asked.

"I think I've got it," Spencer said, nearly falling to the ground as he attempted to bend down to grab his stuff.

"Woah, I got it, I got it…" I said, laughing as I grabbed it for him. "Now stay here. Last thing you need is to break something, Mr. FBI." I quickly threw his items into the cubby next to mine, before rejoining the gawky man.

"One step at a time," I said, waddling ahead of Spencer to the shiny rink. I let my foot touch the ground, and almost instantly it began to slowly slide away from me.

"Shit shit shit," I murmured putting my other foot on the shiny surface. I slowly let myself find my balance.

I got this.

I found myself not wobbling.

I got _this_.

I began to stand straight.

_I got this._

Then I fell right on my butt.

"Ow!" I yelped. Taking a deep breath, I slowly got to my feet, being extra careful not to fall again. And I began to take steps. One step at a time.

And then I found a rhythm of skating. Slowly.

"Hey! I got it!" I said triumphantly, turning to see Spencer still standing at the edge of the rink. I skated slowly over to him. "You going to join?"

"I've never skated before," he said, glancing at the floor before meeting my gaze.

"There's a first time for everything Spencer, now, come on!" I said, grabbing his arm and getting coaxing him onto the shiny floor. He was taller than me, so I had to be careful to make sure that I wouldn't make him fall on top of me.

"That's right, slowly… slowly…" I said, guiding him before letting him go, "Keep going just like that… you've got it."

"Did you know that roller skating uses 80% of your bodies' muscles?" Spencer said, his face contorted in concentration.

"I didn't…" I said, noticing an improvement in form when he listed off a random factoid, "Any other random facts, you just happen to know?"

"About roller skating specifically?"

"Or anything," I said, testing my theory.

"Oranges aren't naturally occurring fruits, they're actually hybrids of tangerines and pomelos, a large Asian citrus fruit that is closely related to grapefruits. Oranges were originally green, not orange, and have only begun to appear orange due to now growing in temperate climates, which causes for it to lose its chlorophyll-induced green color."

"That's… interesting…" I murmured, smiling when I noticed he was no longer focusing on his balance, which was now near perfect, "Want to know something?"

"What?"

"You're roller skating," I said, smiling widely,

"Huh… I guess I am."

"Now for the fun part."

"And what's that?"

"Catch me if you can!" I said, rushing off to the other side of the rink. I heard Spencer laugh, soon followed by the sound of skates on the wood. I grinned as I sped up. I glanced backwards to see Spencer close behind me.

"You're not going catch me today," I said, trying to go faster.

"But I think I am," came Spencer's voice as I felt a hand grab my wrist. I let out a small yelp before bursting into laughter.

"Okay, okay you got me," I said, slowing down with him.

"Now what?" Spencer asked.

"Well, what time is it?" I asked, looking for a clock, finding one on the electronic board in the back. "It's 3:12… a little too early for me to go grocery shopping, so is there anything you've always wanted to do?"

"I've always wanted to-" he began, but I promptly cut him off.

"And do not say something science related. Something spontaneous!" Spencer gave a look at that as we skated off the on the shiny floor to the grossly colored carpet.

"I've always wanted to go to the Stafford Civil War Park, but that would definitely be a car ride away. Honestly, today might be a little hard to do much," he said, deep in thought.

"As much as I hate to admit it," I said, sighing as I undid my skates, "you're probably right… Here give me your skates and I can go return them."

Spencer quietly handed me his skates as I made my way to the counter. Giving them to the teen, I made my way to my cubby, where Spencer was grabbing his stuff next to mine.

"Well, I guess I should go ahead to the grocery store, huh?" I said, putting on my shoes, before turning to Spencer, "Well, this was fun. Let's do it again sometime?"

"We'll see," he said.

"Admit it, you had a good time," I said, grabbing my items as we headed out.

"That I did," he said, giving me a small smile.

"Well, see you around?" I said, giving him a wave.

"Yeah… have a good day," he said.

"You too!" I said, parting with him and making my way to the grocery store near my apartment. Seeing Spencer today was unexpected, but definitely worth it.

For the first time I felt something that I hadn't felt in years.

And that feeling?

It was addictive.


	12. CHAPTER ELEVEN

Grocery shopping was pretty boring, per usual. I bought only the necessities: bread, cereal, juice, milk, ingredients for meals that week, and the occasional bottle of wine.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't _only_ necessities.

But what can I say?

A girl needs some way to decompress.

Carrying my purchases back to my apartment was always a pain, but juggling the book with my bags added an extra challenge.

I fumbled with my keys for a few seconds once I entered the door of my apartment. I lugged my bags and practically threw them on the counter before rushing to the door and locking it tightly. Then I got to work putting all my groceries away, before remembering that envelope. I grabbed my book, flipping through the pages until I found what I was looking for. I quickly tore open the envelope and scanned over it.

It had the generic stuff that I already knew.

Name? Sarah Bennett.

Age? Twenty-nine years old.

Birth date? May 17th, 1983.

Birthplace? Whitefish, Montana.

Known living relatives? None.

College? Carroll College with BA in Communications.

Current location? Stafford, Virginia.

But there was more, in depth information now.

As of now, I had attended Whitefish High School, graduated in the top 10 in my class, getting a full ride to Carroll College. I never had any trouble with the law, never got as much as a speeding ticket. Before moving to Stafford, I worked as an editor for the small-town newspaper. There was a copy of a boring medical record, detailing a single, minor bone when I was eight, with cause listed as falling down while playing soccer in my front yard. I had no religious background, no copious amounts of money, no nothing. The more I read, the more boring I got.

At least nothing would stand out.

Grasping the paper, I walked to my room and took the generic flower picture off the wall, to see the safe. I entered the password, ignoring the pang of nostalgia that hit me.

_12-05-82_

I heard the beep, confirming the correct passcode, and I opened the small safe door. I looked at the few sheets of paper, confirming my history and then the small bag of IDs, passports, stacks of cash, and burner cells.

Those were just in case.

_Just in case._

Shaking my head, I slid the new piece of paper in before locking the safe tightly. I quickly grabbed the picture and put it up on the wall, ensuring the safe was covered. Walking back out to the main area of my apartment, I sat down, grabbing _The Mystery of Cloomber._ I had made very little headway this morning at the coffee shop, as I had been too busy questioning Spencer before abandoning all thoughts of finishing my book for a so-called "adventure."

I smiled remembering how he relaxed when listing off facts, first in the car and then at the roller rink. It was almost as if academia was to him as a glass of wine was to me. It lowered his tense nature, especially in social situations. That was useful information. Shaking myself from my thoughts, I returned to my reading.

I read for a few hours, totally sucked into the book, before a ding from my phone broke me from my focus. I picked it up to see a notification from Spencer.

_Sarah, it was nice to see you today. I had a good time skating. We should do it again sometime. -Spencer Reid_

Even in his texts, he was formal, a huge difference from the annotated and casual style of Caroline. It was refreshing. I quickly typed out a response, rereading it before sending it.

_Today was a lot of fun- thanks for entertaining me and my antics! Next adventure, you get to be the leader, okay?_

Sending it, I decided that I should go ahead and make something to eat for dinner. Settling on a meatball sub, I made my way to the kitchen. It took me longer than I care to admit to make it. About an hour later, a burnt attempt of homemade meatballs sat soaking in the sink, I had a meatball sub, although not as gourmet as I had hoped. Before taking my sub to the couch to eat, I poured myself a glass of red wine.

Sitting down, I reached for the TV remote, turning on the national news. There was nothing overly interesting, other than the usual political unrest, war in third world countries, and the occasional oddity story.

Just the usual news in a usual world.

I wonder how many pyschos didn't make the 8 o'clock news because of the work the BAU did?

It was weird but the BAU had piqued my interest, likely due to the nature of their work. I mean, most of it revolved around the psyche of human behavior, the ways we interact with others, the way we exist. It was interesting. So, I did what any interested 29-year-old woman would do.

I Googled it.

I leaned and stretched to the side table to grab my laptop. It was better than getting up from my comfortable spot. Taking a bite from my sandwich, I typed in "FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit," and watched as the page loaded.

Almost instantly, results flooded the page, ranging from the FBI description page to the BAU homepage with information about each of the team members. There were even clips from news briefs they had done throughout the years. I chuckled as I saw a cover of a particular clip where Spencer had his hands held in an excited way, a mannerism that displayed his excitement of a certain fact, or just sharing knowledge.

I still did completely understand the workings of the BAU but I did have a feeling in my gut, a feeling that made my stomach turn, but not in a sick way.

In a way that felt like I was riding a rollercoaster.

I had no idea what was going to happen next.

But I was going to enjoy this ride.


	13. CHAPTER TWELVE

The week passed by with no incidents. I didn't see Hotch at Backroads Coffee, didn't contact Spencer, and I didn't even talk to Caroline once.

It had been a quiet and boring week.

Almost too quiet.

One thing that I knew was routine built stability and stability built predictability. But even theories, no matter how precise and well-accounted, were prone to mistakes due to human error and application within a real-world setting.

I went to the coffee shop the next Monday morning, post-workout. I expected to walk up to the counter to see Jen, but I was instead greeted with a new face.

"Hi, welcome to Backroads Coffee. My name is Chris," said the young man, beaming at me.

"Oh, hi… Can I get a medium mocha to-go please?" I asked.

"Perfect… Can I have a name for the order?"

"Sarah," I said, reaching for my card to pay. I handed it to him, before asking another question. "Where is Jen today?"

"She called in sick today. I usually take over after her, so I just covered for her," he said, ringing up my card and handing it back to me. "Your drink will be out in a minute."

I murmured a thanks as I made my way to a table to wait. Taking out my phone, I scrolled through the news, absentmindedly. There was a sound at the door and I turned to see the familiar face of none other than Aaron Hotchner. I gave him a small wave as he made his way to the counter to order his bitter cup of death. It felt that I had only looked down at my screen and looked up to see Hotch standing, also waiting for his drink.

"It's been a while since I've seen you," I said. "Been busy with a case?"

"Yes, we were just over in Charlottesville, so not too far away this time."

"That's good… How's Jack doing? Still winning the soccer games?"

"They just won one this past weekend, and he was pretty excited when he scored a goal."

"That's great," I said, before adding, "And I just wanted to thank you again for letting me crash the dinner party the other night. It was nice to meet some people." I almost added 'and make some more friend,' but I didn't feel confident enough to declare us friends yet.

"The team enjoyed meeting you," he said. And then we sat in silence, both of us waiting for our drinks.

"Spencer mentioned that you went rollerskating?" Hotch said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said, letting out a short laugh. "He, coincidentally, came to the coffee shop at the same time I did, and I told him that he had to join me on an adventure or else he was more boring that I was. He was reading _Pride and Prejudice_ and case files for fun."

"That does sound like Spencer," Hotch murmured. I looked at him to see his eyebrows furrowed as he seemingly investigated my face.

"Something on my face?" I said, now my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"No, it just… takes a very specific type of individual to get Spencer to abandon his reading."

"He was really just humoring me," I said. "Although I suppose I will have to humor him at some point." At Hotch's look, I elaborated, "I told him we could go on another adventure, this time to the Stafford Civil War Park?"

"That does sound more his speed," Hotch said.

"Sarah?" came the voice from behind the counter. I looked up to see that my coffee was now sitting, ready for me to drink it before I head into work.

"Well, that's me," I said, getting up and grabbing my drink. "I'll see you around?"

"Sarah," Hotch said as I made my way to the exit.

"Yeah?"

"Just…be careful," he said. My guy clenched. I quickly shook those feelings off before giving him a smile.

"Only if you are too," I said. "Bye Hotch."

I think I heard him murmur a goodbye as I left. Walking to my apartment, I felt that same sentiment pound my head over and over again.

Just be careful.

Be careful.

I heard that sentiment so many times, reminded myself of it with every breath I took. But why did Hotch tell me that?

It was probably just the nature of his job. People were murdered every day and Charlottesville was basically in our backyard. That's all.

I unlocked my door, closing it shut behind me, locking it tight, with Hotch's words repeating. I quickly chugged my mocha before tossing it in the trashcan. I rushed to my bathroom to take a quick shower before I had to head to work.

"Where the heck did I put my towel?" I questioned aloud, searching my bedroom and bathroom for the blue towel that I had used the day before. "I could've sworn I put it on the hook…" I trailed off when I saw it in the laundry bin. I must have thrown it there by accident.

Taking a quick shower, I got out and grabbed my typical blouse, skirt, and heels for work. I got dressed quickly, blow drying my hair and putting on some makeup, as I stumbled around my room, trying not to fall and die before I got to work.

Checking the clock, I realized I was running a few minutes ahead of schedule. I grabbed my phone and decided to send Spencer a text.

_Hey – I saw Hotch today. Reminded me that I still owe you a trip the Stafford Civil War Park or another type of adventure. Let me know if you want to find a time to do it. :)_

I wasn't sure if Spencer would respond, but I figured that I did, as I told Hotch earlier, 'have to humor him at some point.' Grabbing my bag, I locked my door behind me as I left, beginning my walk to work. But before I got inside, I felt a buzz from my purse. I opened up my phone to see a text notification from none other than Spencer Reid.

_What about this Saturday? Meet at Backroads around 10AM?_

I smiled as I typed out my response.

_Sounds great. See you Saturday._

I felt my shoulders relax as I reread my text.

Seeing Spencer did, indeed, sound great.


	14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The week passed by in a blur. I had dinner with Caroline on Wednesday, where I filled her in on my untick in social life to which she replied, and I quote, "That's a girl! Live your best fucking life!"

Needless to say, I made her very proud.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off at 8:30AM. Slowly opening my eyes, I struggled to get up for a minute, stretching my back as I rose from my bed. For about a second, I was very confused as to why my alarm was going off at this hour on a Saturday. I usually got up about an hour later for the gym.

I was meeting up with Spencer today.

With that, I somehow found the energy to get out of bed. I had decided beforehand not to work out, so that I wasn't tired from getting up earlier than I had to and going to the gym. Taking a quick shower, I walked to my closet and dresser, with my hair sopping wet.

It was chilly outside, so I decided that a pair of jeans, a blouse, and some comfy sneakers would be fine. I quickly grabbed my blow dryer and dried my hair before throwing it up in a ponytail. And then I checked my phone as I searched for a jacket.

There was a text from Spencer.

_Might need to reschedule plans – it's looking like it's going to rain all day._

I walked to the window in my room, and sure enough, it was pouring down rain. Well, damn it. I was looking forward to today.

_That sucks – we could still meet up or something? Maybe watch a movie or something?_

As soon as I sent it, I groaned. I sounded like a teenage girl trying to hang out with her crush. I followed up with a, what I hoped, was a less cringy second text.

_No pressure, we can just reschedule too. I know your schedule is hectic._

Switching into leggings and an oversized shirt, because why would I wear jeans if I was staying in my own house as I suspected would be based off of my cringe texting abilities, I checked for a response.

Nothing.

Walking to the kitchen, I decided that I could at least make a breakfast for myself. Maybe muffins?

Definitely muffins.

Throwing my hair into a bun, to ensure I wouldn't get flour in my clean hair, I then quickly grabbed some muffin liners and the ingredients for my homemade chocolate chip muffins. I had just preheated the oven and began to sift the flour when my phone began to ring. Flour on my hands, I didn't check to see who called when I clicked answer, switching to speakerphone quickly.

"Hello?" I asked, going back to sifting my flour into a bowl.

"Sarah? This is Spencer Reid?"

"Oh! Hi, hi!" I said, trying not to spill flour.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little…preoccupied right now?" I said, grabbing other dry ingredients and sifting them as well.

"I can call later?"

"No, no. It's fine…What's up?"

"Well, since the rain has ruined our initial plans, I was wondering if there was anything else you wanted to do today?"

"Oh, well, right now I am currently making some chocolate chip muffins, and then I have literally nothing else to do today except my weekly grocery shopping," I said, walking to the fridge for my eggs, milk, and butter. Then a thought popped into my head. "Say, this is a batch of 12 muffins and there is no way I will eat all these by myself. Want to drop by for some?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Spencer said, but I quickly cut him off before he could protest anymore.

"No, really, I insist! You'd actually be helping me," I said, before adding, "And if you have any like movies or stuff, you could bring those over. Make a day of it?"

"I don't watch a lot of movies or TV," Spencer said, "but I can bring a few DVDs over?"

"Sounds like a plan… You still have my address?"

"I think so… Yeah, I do."

"Cool, so you can just park around the corner, and head on up? My apartment number is 2G, so just go up the stairs and it's to your left."

"Okay, I'll head over in about 15 minutes? So, I'll be there around 10:20AM?"

"Sounds great. Drive safe!"

"I will," Spencer said, hanging up. I added the chocolate chips to the batter, giving it a quick mix before pouring the batter into the muffin cups. I popped the muffins into the oven, setting the timer for 18 minutes. I threw my dishes into the sink, before going into the living room to tidy it up as the dishes soaked. I found myself back in the kitchen scrubbing the dishes, and putting them on a drying rack.

Then the timer for the muffins went off. I practically flew to the oven, grabbing oven mitts, and pulling my muffins out. They were golden brown on the top.

Perfect.

I set the hot pan on my counter, letting them sit for a few minutes. I grabbed a wire rack out to put the muffins on, taking the muffins out of the pan, being careful to not burn myself. I had just gotten a few muffins out when there was a knock at the door. Rushing to the door, I unlocked it to see the familiar tall figure.

"Glad to see you found your way okay," I said, gesturing for him to come in.

"Thanks," he said, showing me the stack of DVDs in his hands. "I brought what I had."

"You can just set them down there," I said, gesturing towards the coffee table in the living room.

"The muffins smell great," he said.

"Thanks," I said, returning to getting them out of the pan. "This is the one thing that I can reliably make and not burn…Trust the testimony of my failed homemade meatballs from last week… Did you have coffee yet? I can make some really quick?"

"Coffee would be great, thanks."

"No problem," I said, grabbing my glass French press, beginning to make coffee as the muffins finished cooling.

"Is this you?" Spencer asked, picking up the one photo I had in my apartment. It was when I was about five years old, with my best friend.

"Yeah, I was at a local park when that was taken… That's Alice…I think she's married with about a million kids in Texas, now?"

"There's no other photos here?"

"Yeah, a lot of my stuff got lost when I moved here," I said, quoting the same thing I told Caroline when she came to my apartment for the first time. "And I think the muffins are cool enough to eat!" I picked two up, one for me and one for Spencer.

Spencer took a bite of his and immediately told me that it was 'very good.' Taking a bite of mine, I walked over to look at the DVDs that Spencer brought.

"So, what shall we watch first?"


	15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"So, wait, you have all the _Star Trek_ movies?" I asked, glancing at the pile as the credits rolled from the first one.

"Yes."

"Isn't _Star_ _Trek_, like, grossly inaccurate for someone as invested in scientific truth as yourself?"

"Actually, there aren't that many scientific errors in _Star Trek_, especially considering how long ago it was made. There are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors," Spencer said.

"Wow," I said. "So, other than Star Trek, what else do you watch?"

"I enjoy watching Doctor Who…"

"What about comedies? Disney movies?" I poked, sipping my coffee which was filled with sugar and milk.

"Not really," Spencer confessed.

"Okay, then I am picking out the next movie, and it is… let me see what I have here…" I murmured, getting up and walking over to the messy drawer that held my few movies. "What about _10 Things I Hate About You_?"

"Sounds fine."

"Perfect," I said, crawling over to the DVD player. "Can you hand me the case?" I gestured to the open case for Spencer's DVD. He handed it to me, and I gave him a small smile.

"Careful," he said.

"I know," I said, gently removing the DVD and putting it back into the case. Closing it tightly, I placed it on the coffee table with his other movies. I put the DVD in, clicking play.

"So, what exactly is this movie about?" Spencer asked, obviously skeptical

"Okay, so it's loosely based off of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew, but it's set in high school…it's one of my favorite movies of all time."

"Did you know that Shakespeare's shortest play, _The Comedy of Errors_, is only a third of the length of _Hamlet_, his longest play?"

"I did not know that… Did you know that Shakespeare's original grave marker showed him holding a bag of grain but in 1747 citizens of Stratford replaced the bag with a quill?" I said, remembering the fact that I had learned in a theatrical literature class I look in Italy that involved a trip to London and the Globe Theatre.

"I did…" he said, just as the movie began to play. We both fell silent as the screen lit up. Despite his disinterest in the movie, his eyes never wavered from the screen. I kept trying to focus on the movie, but I kept finding myself stealing glances at him.

Even when we were watching a movie, his face was contorted in concentration, his eyes scanning the entirety of the screen. His brain never seemed to rest; his eyebrows furrowed, a sign of that. He occasionally let out a chuckle when a joke was made, his breath would hitch ever-so slightly when something was revealed, and his eyes would narrow when he would find a hole in the plot.

Before I knew it, the movie was over.

"That was a good movie, but I don't understand why-" Spencer began, but I cut him off.

"Dude, just enjoy the movie," I said, standing up, grabbing both of our mugs. "Accept the happy ending!"

"But-"

"Nope! Accept the happy ending!" I protested, making my way to the sink.

"But happy endings aren't probable," Spencer said, following me with the muffin trash.

"How so?"

"It's estimated that anywhere from 40-50% of marriages will end in divorce," Spencer began.

"But that doesn't mean that a happy ending is improbable," I argued, putting the two mugs in the sink. "In your scenario, you base happiness on the notion of marriage. I prefer to think of happiness as a measurement of the good a person does and the good that is done unto them."

"But the theory of a 'happy ending' implies the ending itself… After all one in four people will die from cancer each year and one in fourteen people will die from a sudden heart attack. Those endings aren't happy by anyone's definition," Spencer said.

"Okay, but I don't think the emphasis is on the ending… it's on the happiness. Like, if you were to die right now, and you had the chance to look back at your life… would you feel happy or not?" I asked washing the dishes. Spencer didn't reply at first. "Well?"

"I don't know…" he said. "What about you?"

"I think I'd be content. Not happy. Not sad. Just…content," I said, shrugging as I dried off the dishes. I looked at Spencer to see him deep in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"What?" he asked, breaking from his thoughtful reprieve.

"Say what's on your mind."

Spencer paused for a minute, and I saw his eyes scan my face. He let out a breath before speaking.

"How do you know… if your life made you happy… I mean, how do we even quantify happiness?"

"Wow, just got a little philosophical there," I said, before pausing. "What does the dictionary define happiness as?"

"Happiness is a state of well-being, joy, or contentment."

"Well, constant happiness is not possible, and we tend to hold on the most tragic memories and attach to those, but there are happy memories that are just as attached to us," I said. "I mean, we remember those feelings of loss, but we also remember those of joy."

"But if those unhappy feelings are of such magnitude, how do those happier ones compare?" he questioned.

"They don't," I stated. "But it's whether we grow or fall under the weight of those. Life should be like… like the tide of the ocean! There are high tides, and low tides, and even the in between tides. But there are extreme lows and highs too. It's our job to not let those tides drag us and drown us in our sorrows. We have to hold on the good so we have something to keep us afloat when nothing seems good. And it's those moments that light the darkness, that are our happiest." I finished musing and looked at Spencer.

"That… makes a surprising amount of sense," he said.

"I try my best to make sense," I teased. "So now what?"

"Now what?"

"What should we do next, Dr. Reid?"

"We could turn on another movie?" he suggested. I glanced at the time before getting an idea.

"Let's do that after."

"After what?"

"We are going to cook a nice lunch," I said, grabbing an apron. "And you don't want to get that nice sweater vest all messy, do you?" Spencer's face was a perfect look of confusion and horror as I handed him the apron that Caroline had bought me two months prior. It was hot pink and adorned with phrase "I'll Feed All You Sexy Fuckers" in silvery glitter. I had never used it, but I figured Spencer would rather wear this than ruin his prized sweater vest.

As he put on the atrocious apron, I had only one thought.

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.


	16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"How do you feel about tortilla soup?" I asked, flipping through one of my recipe books.

"I've never had that before."

"Perfect! Then it's decided!" I said, propping up the book. "Okay, so it looks like we need vegetable oil, an onion, some garlic, two jalapeños, chicken broth, a can of diced tomatoes, a can of black beans, some chicken breasts, two limes, and cilantro for the soup itself…" I began walking around the kitchen gathering the ingredients. "Spencer, can you grab a large saucepan? It should be under the stove… Thank you."

"So, what do we do first?

"Okay, so we need to dice the onions and the jalapeños, mince the garlic, chop the cilantro, and juice the limes… that way everything is prepped and we don't have to worry about doing that when it's cooking."

"I can do the cilantro and the limes?"

"Perfect, and I can do the rest," I said, pulling out knives and cutting boards. "You can grab a bowl and juicer from those cabinets." I gestured to one of the cabinets above the sink.

We worked in silence, diligently dicing and juicing.

"Okay, so now we want to heat the oil in that saucepan…and then we add the onions and cook for about two minutes," I said, pouring the oil into the pan. Spencer then scraped the onions into the pan. "Keep stirring those! You don't want them to burn…we just want them soft and semi-translucent."

"Bossy much?"

"My kitchen, my rules," I said, leaning against the counter as I let out a small laugh.

"Are these up to par?" Spencer asked, in what I think was a sarcastic tone, holding up the pan. Peering in, I nodded.

"Now we add the garlic and jalapeños, cooking for just a minute…" I said, scraping them into the pan. "I'll measure the chicken broth because then we add that…"

"Do you make this often?"

"Not too much…my mom used to make it when I was a kid," I said, dumping the broth into the pan. "Watch out, don't want to get broth all over you… Can you dump the tomatoes and beans in?"

"Yeah, behind you…" Spencer said, pouring the two cans into the pan and mixing well.

"Okay, so now we want to let that get to a boil before we put the chicken in…"

"Do you cook for yourself often?" Spencer asked as I began picking up discarded dishes to wash.

"I try to. When I was in college, I used to eat out way too much, spent way too much money… figured I should be more fiscally responsible," I said. "Also, way healthier to eat at home, but I do occasionally splurge or give into a fast food craving… Do you cook?"

"I do, but I have a tendency to burn the food," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You should just think of it as chemistry. In fact, I think there are multiple essays on cooking in relation to chemistry… maybe you could read them for fun," I said, chuckling at my own joke, before realizing he probably had already read them.

"What's your favorite thing to make?"

"That's a hard one… probably limoncello cake…I learned how to make it with my mom one summer."

"You must have been close with your mom."

"Yeah, I was…she was my best friend," I said, feeling my eyes begin to water.

No.

I was not going to cry.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, his tone showing that he noticed something was wrong.

"She and my dad died," I said, standing straight. "They were in a car accident when I was nineteen. It was my first semester in college." Even when I spoke with the upmost sincerity, that sentence always left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said, giving him a small smile. "Wasn't your fault and it was years ago… Oh! Turn down the heat on that!" I had noticed the boiling soup.

"Okay, so now what?" Spencer asked.

"Now we put the chicken breast in and let it cook for about 25 minutes," I said grabbing the chicken from the fridge. "Can you put it in while I set the timer?"

"Yeah, I got it."

I had turned my back for a few seconds to set a timer when a sharp, and sudden, proclamation of 'Ow!' caused me to turn around. I saw Spencer cradling his hand, no chicken to be seen.

"You threw it in there all at once, didn't you?" I asked, rushing to the freezer to get a bag of frozen peas. Before he could respond, I continued, "You know, for a genius, you are a little bit of an idiot. It's boiling hot!"

"I-" he began, but I cut him off by shoving the peas at him.

"Put those where the water got you…Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"Just be careful," I said. "I don't need Hotch to scold me for injuring one of his team members."

"He wouldn't scold you," Spencer said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be so sure about that. He takes his job very seriously, doesn't he?" I asked.

"You could say that."

"I did say that," I sassed him. "So back to our previous conversation before someone played the fool in the kitchen…What's the one thing you can make reliably, without burning?"

"A sandwich?" he said, his eyes revealing he was joking.

"C'mon, there's got to be something other than that," I said, teasingly.

"I can make a pretty simple pad thai that's…edible," he said. "But most of the time, I usually eat on the go or order in… it's more convenient with my job."

"That's fair… But, hey, next time you take lead with this pad thai recipe," I said, pointing my finger at him.

"Deal."

"How's the hand doing?" I asked.

"It's fine."

"Let me see it," I said, putting my hand out expectantly.

"Really, it's fine."

"Spencer, you got boiling liquid on your hand. Even if it was just for a second, it can still be bad, so let me see it," I demanded. He let out a sigh, as he removed the bag of frozen peas from his hand and let me inspect it.

I grabbed his hand, and turned it over, inspecting it. He had some redness and slight swelling.

"You should be fine… does it hurt? I have some painkillers somewhere…"

"No. I'm fine," he said, suddenly removing his hand from mine.

"Oh, okay…just let me know if you want me to get it," I said.

"Thanks."

"How often do you guys go on cases?"

"Enough to keep us busy, sometimes we go on cases back-to-back."

"Not a lot of time for relaxing at home, huh?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "But I like being busy." Just then, the alarm went off.

"Oh! So, now," I said, checking the recipe to ensure I did the right thing, "we take the chicken out and shred it. While I do that, can you add the juice and cilantro to the pot?"

"Got it."

We worked in silence as I shredded the chicken and Spencer stirred in the juice and cilantro.

"Okay, so now can you grab the tortilla chips from the pantry and the shredded white cheese in the fridge? If you want, I also have some avocado," I said, continuing to shred the chicken, before putting it back into the soup. "And now, our soup is done!"

"Smells great," Spencer said.

"I know. Let me just grab some bowls really quickly," I said, standing on my tiptoes to grab the bowls.

"I could get those for you," Spencer said, grabbing them from above me.

"Ah, curse you and your tall genes," I said. "Thank you."

"No problem."

I then served Spencer and I some soup, making sure to garnish it with chips and cheese and grabbing some spoons as we made our way to the couch.

"Be careful, it's hot," I said, giving Spencer a look.

"I know, I know," he said. "I am a grown adult."

"Yeah," I laughed, "sure Mr. I-burned-my-hand-because-I-threw-chicken-into-hot-soup." Spencer rolled his eyes as he took a spoonful of soup.

"This is pretty good," he said.

"Good," I said, "then you can take some home and reheat it."

"I can't."

"Yeah, you can. I'm not going be able to eat all of that. Heat it up and it's a good dinner," I said.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

We ate in silence, with Spencer occasionally listing off a random fact. Before I knew it, Spencer and I had both finished.

"Well, it's almost 3 o'clock," Spencer said. "I should probably get going."

"I need to go get my weekly groceries," I said, "but let me get you some soup for home." I got up and made my way to the kitchen. Grabbing a Tubberware, I spooned about half of the leftover soup in, making sure to close it tightly. "Do you need chips and cheese?"

"I have some in my apartment, but thank you," Spencer said.

"You have your DVDs?"

"Yep."

"Alrighty, well here is your soup," I said, handing to him. "Oh, careful!" I laughed and gave him a playful shove, "Just kidding."

"Thanks again for this," Spencer said. "It was fun."

"Sorry our original plans didn't quite pan out," I said.

"Life happens," he said. "Believe me, with my job, plans change constantly."

"I figured," I said.

"But seriously," Spencer said, making eye contact with me, "I had a really nice time. We should do this again sometime?"

"Well, duh," I said. "You are going teach me that pad thai recipe, right?"

"Of course," he said, smiling as he walked towards the door. He had just begun to turn the doorknob, when he turned to face me again. "Sarah?"

"Yeah? Did you forget a movie?" I said, turning to glance at the table. His movies were not there.

"I was wondering… if I were to ask you to dinner sometime…would you be interested?"

I froze.

Was he asking that if he asked me out, would I say yes?

Or was he asking if I wanted to get dinner as friends?

I was confused.

"Oh, um…" I said, my brain racing for an answer, "Yeah… I think, yeah…"

"Okay," he said, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Okay."

"Well, have a nice evening," he said, opening the door and leaving.

"You too…" I murmured, closing the door behind him.

I stood there frozen for a moment before rushing to my phone and dialing the only number I could think of.

C'mon… pick up, pick up.

I heard the click of the phone being picked up.

"Caroline? We need to talk. Now. How fast can you be at my place?"


	17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Sarah, open up!" came Caroline's voice from my door. I rushed to the door and unlocked it to see the familiar grin upon her features. "I brought the wine?" She gently shook the bottle of red wine.

"Got anything stronger?" I asked, giving her a small smile.

"I know exactly where you keep the tequila, don't play dumb with me.

"Yeah, yeah…I know," I groaned. She entered my apartment, practically running towards the kitchen.

"Okay, c'mon, let's get some alcohol in you and then we can talk about what happened," Caroline said. "Where the hell do you keep your wine glasses?" I closed the door before making my way to help here.

"That cupboard… no, to the left," I said.

"Got them!" Caroline said excitedly, pouring the glasses full.

"Thanks," I said, grasping the cup and making my way to the couch. "Bring the bottle."

"That bad?"

"I don't know," I confessed, taking a large sip.

"Ok, well, start from the beginning," Caroline prompted, joining me on the couch.

"Um, well, I told you about Spencer…so basically, we made plans today…" I started, telling her about everything, how the whole morning had gone. And then I explained the end.

"So, he asked you if you would be interested in having dinner at some time, _if _he asked?" Caroline clarified, sipping her wine.

"Yeah, and I was all like 'Yeah, sure!' and Caroline, oh my God," I groaned, refilling my glass. Had I already drunk a full glass?

Oh well.

"Well, does he like you?" she asked.

"I mean, I guess? We've hung out a few times and we are friends, I think?"

"No, I mean does he _like_ you…" she asked again.

"How would I know? It's not like I can read his mind," I said.

"Well, do you like him?"

"Caroline, I literally don't know. I mean, I barely know the guy!"

"Okay, okay… hypothetical?"

"I hate hypotheticals," I groaned as Caroline glared at me.

"Let's assume that he asks you to dinner as a friend… What would you say?"

"I mean, I would say yes… we're friends?"

"Okay, well, if he asked you to dinner as _more than_ friends?" she prompted. I furrowed my eyebrows.

What would I say? I mean, sure, he was handsome, but not in that conventional, muscular, macho man way. In a nerdy, sweet way. And he was smart and kind and had a unique sense of humor…

"Earth to Sarah?" Caroline's voice pulled me from my reprieve.

"What?"

"You totally disappeared there for a second."

"Oh, sorry," I murmured, sipping from my wine glass.

"So? If it was more than friends, what would your answer be?"

"I guess… maybe… I would be interested? But I haven't dated in years, and he probably meant it in a friend-sort of way," I said.

"Woah, woah, woah! You would be interested? I need to see a picture of this guy because I have been trying to get you to go on a date for the past months and it's always 'no,' 'no,' and more 'no!'" Caroline said, grabbing my computer and unlocking it.

I really needed to change the password.

"His name is Spencer Reid?" she asked.

"Yeah, Reid is spelled R-E-I-D," I said, noticing that she spelled it Reed.

"Oh, he's a doctor," she said. "Which one is he?" I glanced over and saw that she had found a picture of the team online very quickly.

Wow. She was fast.

"The tall one," I said, pointing to the screen.

"Nice… never thought you would go for the nerdy type, but to each their own."

"I never said I would go for him," I defended, but Caroline interrupted me.

"Ah! You said, and I quote, 'I would be interested!'"

"You're impossible, you know that," I said, glaring at her as I finished my glass.

"And you love me for it," she said, blowing me a kiss. "Now tell me all about him."

"As I said, I barely know him."

"Well, entertain me with what you do know," she said, waving a hand as she leaned into the couch, preparing to listen intently. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, let me think… Well, he's crazy smart. He has three BAs and two PhDs… Photographic memory too," I said, trying to list off whatever came to my head. "He works for the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, so they basically profile criminals using human behavior? Oh, and he reads insanely fast…"

"Child prodigy?"

"Probably," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "He recommended a book to me, _The Mystery of Cloomber_. It was pretty good. He loves sci-f, but I did get him to watch a total chick flick today, _10 Things I Hate About You_." I smiled at the memory.

"Oh my God," Caroline said triumphantly. "You like him!"

"No, I don't," I said.

"You totally just smiled… and let me guess, you invited him over today after your plans got cancelled, even though you could have just rescheduled!"

"I was making muffins!"

"Your chocolate chip muffins?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "Your famous, amazing, muffins?"

"They are normal muffins," I said.

"No, Sarah, those muffins are your claim to fame, and you only share them when you want to impress someone," she said, laughing.

"No, I don't!" I said, taking a big gulp of wine.

"Deny it all you want," Caroline said. "Deep down, you know I'm right."

"Yeah, sure," I said. "Can we please switch the topic now?"

"Okay, fine… Oh! Let me tell you about the total hunk I met at the gym last week!" Caroline said, preparing to tell me her tale. I poured myself another glass of wine as I leaned back onto the couch.

Caroline told her story, hands flying around, but I was only half-listening. As I sipped my wine, I couldn't help but have three thoughts.

One: I shouldn't be drinking this next glass of wine.

Two: When was I going to do this week's grocery shopping?

Three: Did Spencer like me as a friend or something more?


	18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I woke up with a start, realizing two things.

One: I was still on my couch.

Two: Caroline was also still on my couch, fast asleep and on top of my left leg.

"Caroline, wake up," I said, rocking her shoulder gently to wake her up.

"What," she groaned, sitting up slowly. "Shit, I fell asleep here?"

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my head. "I'm too late for the gym so I'm just going to shower. Can you get some coffee going?"

"Yeah, yeah…Can I borrow some clothes for work? No way I'm going to make it home before I have to head to work."

"Help yourself," I said, making my way to the bathroom. "But don't use my navy shirt and creamy blouse!" I quickly took a shower, with thoughts of work pounding at my head. Or maybe that was just my headache?

I got dressed quickly, and then blew my dry before putting on my daily makeup. I grabbed a pair of heels as I made my way into the kitchen.

"I'm wearing your green dress…I can get it back to you later this week?" Caroline said, offering me a cup of coffee.

"Sounds good," I said, sitting down at the counter with her. "Can you pass me that apple? Thanks."

"What time did we even go to bed?" Caroline asked, glancing at the empty bottle of wine on the floor and the opened bottle of tequila on the counter.

Of course, I whipped that out.

"I think it was around 1AM?" I said, furrowing my eyebrows, "But I really don't know."

"God, work is going to suck today," she groaned.

"At least you semi-enjoy your job," I said. Caroline rolled her eyes, but she knew I was right. Caroline worked in event marketing. So basically, she got paid to plan events for big corporations.

"You could always quit," she began.

"Not this again," I groaned.

"No, but really… you hate your job and I'm sure I could get you a job interview in communications or public relations," she said.

"I'm fine where I am… it pays the bills," I said.

"But is that all you want out of life?"

"It's what I need out of life right now," I retorted, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Whatever," she said. "I need to use your restroom real quick and then I have to head out."

"Sounds good."

She left towards the bathroom, but not before saying one last thing.

"Did you see where I put my purse?"

"I think it's by the door," I said, looking up, and that's when my blood ran cold.

The door was open.

"Never mind, it's by the couch. Thanks though," she said, grabbing it before rushing to the bathroom.

"Caroline…did you open the door?" I asked, getting up and walking to the door. It wasn't open all the way, just cracked. Did I lock it last night?

"No, why?"

"No reason…" I murmured, shutting it and looking around the room. Nothing was out of place. But I really had to be more careful.

"Alright, well, I should head out," came Caroline's voice from behind me.

"Okay," I said. "And thanks."

"For what?"

"For coming over last night… I'm glad I was able to release that whole mess into the universe, or whatever," I said waving a hand.

"That's what best friends are for, right?"

"Still… thanks," I said, pulling her in for a hug. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she said. "And, hey, I know that you don't know how you feel about this guy and you don't know how he feels about you, but…I think you should think about it."

"Caroline," I said, laughing, before she cut me off.

"Seriously," she said. "I've known you for the past year and in that time, you haven't made any new friends or hung out with any new people…And then this guy now holds a place in your life after only a few weeks of knowing him? I think, at the very least, he's a good change in your life."

"I'll think about it," I said. "But you're going to be late for work if you don't go now."

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'll see you soon."

"Of course."

With a wave and another hug, Caroline was gone. I decided that I should clean quickly before heading into work.

Throwing away the empty wine bottle, putting away the tequila (somewhere _much_ harder to reach), cleaning my dishes, it took all of 10 minutes. But my mind was running a mile a minute.

Did I really forget to lock the door?

I was always so careful.

As I cleaned, I looked for anything out of place.

I couldn't find anything.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I began to grab my keys, pack my purse, and put on my shoes. Grabbing my phone, I groaned as I realized it was not charged. Running to my room, I grabbed my charger and left.

I closed the door tightly, double checking that it was locked.

Looking back on that day, maybe if I had been a little more careful, things would be different.

Maybe if I had locked the door.

Maybe if I hadn't drunk all that wine.

Maybe if I had slowed down before going to work that day.

Maybe if I had noticed the flower picture on my wall was tilted slightly off center.

Maybe if I had done any of those things, we wouldn't be where we were now.

But maybe doesn't let me go back.

And maybe doesn't actually happen.

I wasn't careful enough.

And I would regret that.


	19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That week passed by without consequence. Work was boring, my trips to the gym was boring, even the coffee shop was boring, as I saw no one I knew.

It was weird how even a few months of change could make a week of "normal" routine seem so bland. I didn't hear from Spencer all week, so, of course, our last conversation was on the forefront of my mind.

I pondered it nearly all week. On one hand, it really wasn't in best interest to be dating, Spencer or someone else. That broke routine, allowed for more mistakes, and mistakes could lead to disastrous consequences. But it would be nice to do something different, something that lead to connection.

God, I missed that. I missed being with friends, being with family, the feelings happiness and sadness and love in equal measurements within my life. Losing that all at once was the worst thing to happen to me.

Friday night meant I was able to think about it in the comfort of my living room with reruns of trashy TV and eating takeout Chinese food. I was in the middle of an episode of Law and Order: SVU when my phone rang.

My mouth full of lo mein, I quickly paused the TV and grabbed my phone, answering without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" I asked, swallowing my food as I balanced the phone, my takeout container, and my chopsticks in my hands.

"Sarah?" came the voice on the other end of the line. My eyes widened as I realized who it was.

"Oh, Spencer, hi," I said, setting down my food. "How are you?"

"I'm well, thanks. And yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm great…Is there a reason you're calling me …" I said, checking the clock in my kitchen, "at 9:30 at night?"

"We just got back from a case and we hadn't talked all week," he said.

"Where were you this time?"

"Oregon… there were some ritualistic murders," he began, before I interrupted.

"You can spare me the bloody details?" I said, taking another bite of my food.

"Of course," he said, letting out a soft chuckle.

"So, is there a reason you called, or did you just miss me?" I joked.

"I was wondering if you remembered our last conversation."

"Um, yeah, I-I do," I said, worried about where this conversation was going.

"Well, I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night?"

I felt myself fall back into the couch. I felt my heart beat faster in my chest and my hands began to get clammy.

"No, I don't," I said, praying that being obtuse would give me a few more seconds to think.

"Well, I was hoping… I mean, I was wondering," Spencer asked.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you would have any interest in getting dinner together?"

"Oh," I said. "In what capacity?"

"What do you mean?"

Great.

I wasn't the only one being obtuse.

"What I mean," I said, putting my foot down, "is, Spencer Reid, are you asking me out?"

"I was trying," he said, letting out a laugh. "How am I doing?"

"Pretty good," I said, pausing before letting out a breath. "But I got to be honest…"

"About?"

"Spencer, I'm just…not sure I'm in a position to date right now," I said, trying to figure out a way to phrase my next sentiment.

"You aren't dating someone now, are you?" he asked, but I could hear the joking manner in his voice.

"No, no… nothing like that," I said. "I just… I haven't done the whole dating thing in years and I barely know you…"

"Isn't that the point of a date? To get to know someone?"

"I suppose…"

"I haven't exactly done the dating thing much before, either," he said.

"Really? Girls don't fall for the cute, tall nerdy guy as much as I would've guessed," I mused.

"You think I'm cute?"

"Ugh, don't be getting a big head on me now, Spencer," I warned, but I felt the smile grow on my face.

"I won't," he said.

Neither of us spoke for a minute. I was deep in thought. Maybe Caroline was right. Maybe I should live a little and take a chance on life. After all, this was the thing she always advised me to do to 'spice up' my 'dull life.'

"You know what," I said, channeling my inner spontaneity. "Let's try it."

"Really? Just like that? Cause I had a whole thing prepared," he said.

"You really want to do the whole spiel?" I joked.

"I imagine you'll hear it someday."

"I better."

"So, what do you have planned?"

"Can I surprise you?"

"Mmm, you're going to have to give me a little more than that. A time? How should I dress?"

"Does 7:30 work for you?"

"Yeah."

"I'll pick you up."

"And how should I dress?"

"Surprise me," he said, and I could nearly hear the smirk on his face.

"Yeah, no… On a scale of 'going to the gym' to 'Met Gala,' how nice should I look?"

"That's a large scale."

"Well, you aren't giving me much to work with."

"Maybe a nice dinner casual?"

"I can work with that."

"Good."

"Good."

"See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," I said, hanging up the phone. I sunk into my couch, deciding to finish up my food as I sent Caroline a text.

_I have a date? Any pointers?_

I quickly cleaned up and got ready to sleep. Before I went to bed, I checked my phone and saw a text from Caroline.

_Proud of you bitch! Meet for coffee at Backroads 10AM and we can talk! _

I smiled before confirming. I went to sleep, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel butterflies in my stomach that I suspected were due to that of a tall, cute doctor.


	20. CHAPTER NINETEEN

"What does 'nice dinner casual' mean?" I asked Caroline, sipping my mocha.

"Well, it's a dinner date, so I'd go with either a nice dress or a flare skirt with a nice blouse, and flats," Caroline said. "Maybe curl your hair?"

"You know that I am awful at curling my hair," I said. "Remember that Christmas party last year?"

"Your hair was so burnt," she laughed, sipping her latte. "Thank God for my amazing haircutting skills."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"So, maybe just keep it straight."

"What do I do if I run out of things to say… Or I spill something… Or what if I say something stupid, I mean he is literally a genius," I rambled.

"Christ, calm down!" Caroline said. "Look, if he asked you out, he clearly likes you and thinks that you're worthy of his time… And if anything gets boring, just lean forward and show off the goods a little." She winked as I nearly choked on my mocha.

"Caroline!" I whispered at her. "Shut up!"

"What?"

"You're impossible," I groaned.

"You love me," she said, kicking me gently from under the table. "But, seriously, you are going to be great and have so much fun…So don't worry about it."

"That's like telling a dog not to bark," I said.

"I know," she said. "I know."

We finished our coffee before bidding farewell to each other. Checking the time, I saw that I was right on schedule. It was 11:40, so I had just enough time to get the park.

After all, it was the fourth.

And the fourth brought Daniel.

As I approached the bench, I saw the familiar back of a man in a suit. I quickly sat next to him.

"Sarah," he said, sitting straight and rigid, per usual.

"Daniel," I said, leaning back into the bench.

"Anything unusual happen?"

I felt a pang in my stomach. Did I mention the break in routine? I didn't find anything wrong in my apartment, so I said what I always did.

"No."

"Sticking to the routine?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Any updates?" I asked, prepared for the usual answer.

"Yes," he said gruffly. I turned shocked.

"What?" I asked. "Y-you found something?"

"Unfortunately, it's not good news. Everything should be fine. It's in your brief," he said, handing me the envelope. "Make sure you are extra careful."

"How bad?" I asked, holding the envelope as if it was a bomb.

"Not as bad as three years ago, but bad enough that we needed to update you."

"Are they-"

"You know I can't tell you that," he said.

"Don't I deserve to know?" I asked.

He didn't respond for a moment.

"I'll see you next month."

"Of course," I murmured. He began to stand but not before mumbling something.

"Off-record?" he mumbled. "They're safe." I looked at him as he stood, his face still facing forwards.

"Thank you," I said, smiling. He nodded before walking away. Despite his gruff demeanor, I was thankful for that information. It was the only thing I had heard about them in over three years. Grasping the envelope tightly, I got up and quickly made my way to my apartment, being careful to check behind me every few steps.

I got inside and locked my door. I rushed to the counter, opening the envelope. I read it quickly, finding the three key pieces of information that were most important.

_Leads in located._

_Investigating and attempting to locate multiple suspects._

_Investigation ongoing._

They really had to black out the only pieces of information. And then the line below caught my attention. A line that hadn't been in previous reports.

_Codename: BLACKBIRD escaped prison, killing three guards._

_Location unknown._

_Investigation ongoing._

I didn't have to be a genius to figure out what that meant.

If he had escaped, I was going to have to be extremely careful. I took the brief and immediately put it in the shredder. Checking the time, I decided to turn on the news and read a book that I had checked out at the library until it was time to get ready for my date with Spencer.

My date.

Wow, that felt weird to say.

I read for a few hours, and before I knew it, it was 6:00PM. I took a quick shower before blow drying my hair until it was straight and fluffy. I walked to my closet and thought about what Caroline had said.

I settled on a red skirt that flared slightly and hit midcalf and a white long-sleeved blouse. I put on a pair of pearl studs and a silver necklace with a small fake diamond charm. I grabbed a pair of black flats, and put on a light face of makeup. Standing in front of the mirror, I couldn't help but critique the way it looked.

"Maybe a black top would be better?" I murmured. "No, no, you look fine."

I checked the time and saw it was nearly 7:30PM, so Spencer was going to be here any minute. I grabbed a black purse, putting my wallet, phone, keys, and taser in my bag.

Never could be too safe.

A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. I gave myself a once over in the mirror before opening the door to see Spencer.

"Hey," I said, "You're right on time."

"I try," he confessed. "I, uh, brought these for you." He handed me a small bouquet of flowers, which I assumed were pink roses and baby's breath.

"Wow, you didn't have to," I said. "Let me just put these in a vase really quickly."

"Of course," he said. "You look great, by the way."

"Thank you," I said. I gave him a once over. "You don't look too bad yourself." He was wearing his typical sweater vest, but his normally messy hair was slightly tamed, and his clothes were freshly pressed. He looked good. I put the flowers in a vase as I turned to face him.

"Shall we?" I asked.

"We shall," he said, guiding me out the door, which I made sure I locked.

Well, there was no turning back now.


	21. CHAPTER TWENTY

"How did you even find that place?" I asked as we left the restaurant.

"Honestly, Derek recommended it to me," he confessed.

"The way in which I butchered the pronunciation of that one dish, the soup thing?"

"Soupe à L'Oignon," he said.

"Right, the whole eidetic memory thing," I laughed.

"Well, eidetic memory includes auditory memories as well as-" he began.

"Yeah, I know, I know… as well as a large range that includes various stimuli."

"You know your stuff," he said.

"Don't sound so surprised…I did my research," I said.

"So you looked me up?"

"No," I said, hoping that it was dark enough to cover the heat that I could feel creeping up my cheeks. I looked at him and saw that his facial muscles fighting off a smirk. "Okay, okay… I may have Googled your team and I may have researched what the heck 'eidetic' memory was in comparison to photographic memory."

"That's oddly cute."

"I'm glad you think so," I said. "So what's next on our evening of fun?"

"I was thinking we could go for a short walk?"

"Sounds lovely," I said, letting him lead me down the street. It was dark outside, with the street lights glowing a soft yellow. The sky was cloudy and the air was chilled. It wasn't a clear, warm beautiful night, but still a beautiful night, nonetheless.

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer's voice drew me from my thoughtless reprieve.

"It's beautiful out tonight," I said.

"It's a pity we can't see the stars, otherwise I could woo you with my astronomy skills," he said, and I let out a chuckle.

"I'll hold you to that," I said. "But I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Why did you decide to join the BAU?" I asked. "As you know, I did some light research and the work you guys do is heavy and deals with the worst of humanity."

"I've always been really intrigued by the ways that the human mind works, and with all my educational background, it just seemed like a logical work path and a way for me to utilize my skills best."

"That's a very logical answer," I said.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you decide to work as a secretary at the PR firm?"

"I…I honestly don't know. I mean, I guess I was hoping to get hired as a PR consultant, but they job wasn't hiring and I needed to work to pay my bills," I said, lying through my teeth. It'd be a little hard to explain that I was set up with the job to streamline the relocation process.

"Do you like it?"

"Pays the bills," I said. "It's not nearly as exciting as the stuff you guys do…I'm not catching serial killers."

"Yeah, you're just keeping records and stuff?"

"Don't make fun of me," I said, giving him a small shove. "Where are we going anyways?"

"Spontaneity."

"What?"

"I don't know where we're going, thus, spontaneity," he said, grinning. He looked like a child about to get in trouble.

"Okay, taking a rule straight from the Sarah playbook…I respect that." We walked in silence for a few moments. We passed by a park, where there was a couple holding under a street light, looking at each other and only each other.

It was utterly disgusting.

"So we went over everything in the restaurant: family, friends, jobs, etc, etc…" Spencer said.

"Yes, I guess we did," I said. "Anything else you need to know?"

"We can figure everything else out along the way, right?"

"Of course."

"I do have one more question for you," he said, stopping. I turned to face him.

"Okay?"

"Well, I guess it's more of two questions…"

"Shoot."

"Why don't you have as many roots here? I know that you said you're busy, but it seems odd to me…"

"Well," I said, "I don't really know… I guess I just don't trust people super easily and most people are turned off by it."

"That's fair, but you should give yourself more credit."

"Why, oh wise one," I said, mocking him slightly.

"You seemed to trust me pretty easily," he said, teasing me back.

"Are you making a joke?" I said, feigning shock.

"Maybe."

"For your information," I said, stopping to jab a finger in his chest, "I still have secrets…it creates an allure of mystery."

"Oh, I'm sure," he said, laughing. He gently pushed my hand off of his chest, and somehow ended up holding it. I felt myself tighten. Did he mean to hold my hand?

I slowly removed my hand from his loose grip. We resumed walking, an awkward silence looming over us. Spencer cleared his throat quietly, grabbing my attention.

"Oh, what was your other question?" I asked.

"Nothing…I'll save that one for later…keep you in suspense," he said. And like that, the silence and awkwardness disappeared.

"Of course, you will," I said. Then something caught my eye. "Oh my God, is that froyo?"

"Judging from the sign," Spencer said, "I believe you are correct."

"Let's go! My treat," I said, practically dragging Spencer into the little shop. The neon pink and yellow sign read, 'Froyo Mojo.' We walked into the practically empty store and I made a beeline for the cups.

"Here you go!" I said, handing a cup to Spencer.

"Did you know that yogurt was developed about 5,000 years ago and has origins in both the Middle East and India? But frozen yogurt didn't make an appearance until the 1970s when it was introduced by an entrepreneur who called it 'frogurt,' a very different name than the traditional 'froyo,' we call it today."

"I don't think you took a single breath in that whole statement," I said, getting some strawberry froyo. "And, no, I didn't know that." I rushed to the add-ins, where I promptly added in cheesecake bites, white chocolate chips, and strawberry boba. I glanced at Spencer's cup to see chocolate yogurt, adorned with Oreos, chocolate chips, sprinkles, and some sort of gummy candy. "You have quite the sweet tooth."

"I see you went with a strawberry cheesecake approach?" he said, gesturing towards my cup.

"But, of course," I said, placing my cup on the scale, with Spencer following suit. I quickly handed the woman behind the counter my card.

"You know, typically, the man is supposed to pay," Spencer said.

"But, as I am sure you may have guessed, I'm not too big on typical." We made our way to a table, sitting across from each other. "God, I love froyo."

"Not too many places in Stafford have good froyo?"

"Not too many places in Stafford have froyo. Period," I said, spooning another bite into my mouth. "That was absolutely the worst thing about moving here. Froyo was my jam in Whitefish."

"Noted."

"What about you? You're from Vegas…is there anything you miss from there?"

"I mean, I miss my mom-" he began.

"You're close with your mom? That's amazing," I gushed, before realizing I had interrupted him. "Sorry."

"Yeah, but I don't get down there as much as I would like. I remember when I was little, I would play chess in the park near my house, and I guess I miss those memories."

"No, I get that. Memories are sometimes the only thing to get you through the day," I murmured. We ate in silence for a few moments before I noticed Spencer was wearing some of his food. "Dude, you got some on your face."

"Thanks," he said, grabbing a napkin.

"Wow, I ate that fast," I said, glancing at my now empty cup.

"Did you know that eating fast causes us to take in more calories and feel less satisfied?"

"Did you know that my froyo was delicious and I regret nothing?" I asked, mocking him slightly as I threw away my cup. "You done?"

"Yeah," he said, throwing away his empty cup. "I guess we should be heading back to the car?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said, following him out of the shop. "You know, we've gone over all the basics, but I know no fun facts about you – excluding the intelligence stuff – like… what's your favorite color, favorite animal, favorite food, pet peeve, that kind of silly stuff."

"Let's see… my favorite color is green, although purple is a close second, I don't really have a favorite animal? I love pad thai, which explains why I've been able to 'master' that recipe, and my pet peeve would be when people pretend to experts on things that they know nothing about. What about you?"

"Very interesting. My favorite color is red, my favorite animals are sloths…I love all food, does that count? My pet peeve is when people talk loudly on their phones… Oh! And also, when I have to repeat myself multiple times," I said. We continued with our odd, elementary questions, until we reached the car.

"Your favorite number is seven?" I asked. "Any particular reason for that one?"

"Well, seven, within societal notions, is unique and is reflected within secular culture from seven days in a week to something as arbitrary as the seven dwarfs in Snow White. Even when looking at religion, especially in Christian and Judaism beliefs, the seventh day was the holy, resting day, therefore, making seven a holy number. I guess, I'm just intrigued by the representation it has in our society."

"That's an oddly well-thought out answer to a silly question," I said, getting into the passenger's seat. "I, personally, am partial to the number 21."

"Reasoning?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "I just woke up one day in middle school, I think, and decided that 21 was my lucky and favorite number…Wish it was more inspiring and deep-felt."

"No, that's…cute," he said.

"Now, who thinks who is cute!" I said, triumphantly.

"You're too much," he said.

"I try."

We continued discussing our elementary questions the whole ride back to my apartment complex.

"Let me walk you up to your apartment?" he said, pulling into a parking spot.

"The perfect gentlemen," I said, giving a small laugh. We then made our way up the stairs to my apartment.

"Well, this is me," I said, stopping in front of my door.

"Seems it is."

"Thanks for tonight, I know I was hesitant…but I had a good time," I said.

"I'm glad," Spencer said, giving me a smile.

"Although," I said, "I have to admit that I have no clue what the name of the restaurant was."

"Perfect," he said, "then I can just take you there again."

"Again?" I asked, smiling.

"Well, do you want to do it again?" he asked.

"Spencer," I said, "I would love too."

"Glad to hear that," he said, smiling. Not able to help myself, I stretched up on my toes, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Unlocking my door, I entered my apartment before meeting his gaze. It may have been the lighting but I would have sworn that his face was tinged with a soft pink.

"Well," I said, "Goodnight, and drive safe."

"Goodnight Sarah."

With that, I closed my door and locked it tightly. I quickly made my way to my bedroom, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. And I would be lying if I said that I wasn't thinking – or dare I say, dreaming – of a certain tall, messy-haired genius.


	22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The next week passed by, and I didn't hear from Spencer. He was probably busy with work, so I found myself bored. Who knew that routine could become boring after so long and after being introduced to something new?

Please note the sarcasm.

It was a Wednesday morning when I next heard from Spencer, via text.

_Sarah – would you like to get coffee tomorrow morning at Backroads? _

I responded, indicating that I very much would love to get coffee with him, and before I knew it, I was sitting at a table with Spencer across from me that next morning.

"Morning," I said as he sat across from me.

"Morning." He set down a few files on the table, and began to scan over them.

"Busy couple of days?" I asked.

"Yeah, but today should be relatively calm."

"Fatal last words," I murmured sipping my mocha.

"You're, unfortunately, probably right," he said.

"As I usually am…I saw that the FBI was brought into those bank robberies on Monday…did that include the BAU?"

"Yeah, JJ's now-husband was hurt."

"Now-husband?" I questioned.

"Yeah, she married him on Sunday after the whole situation was over."

"That's amazing, tell her I said congratulations!" I said. "I'll bet it was a beautiful ceremony."

"Yeah, and their son was just as happy as they were."

"I'll bet," I said grinning at the thought. I took a bite of my croissant as Spencer asked me a question.

"Sarah…where do you see this going?"

"This?"

"Us."

"Oh," I said, wiping my mouth of crumbs with a napkin. "I don't really know."

"I mean, what should I say if my coworkers ask what we are?"

"Um…is there a reason they would be asking?" I asked. I didn't know if Spencer would talk about me outside of our conversations. He didn't seem like the kind to bring up his personal life without much prodding.

"They have a tendency to tease and notice things…it often leads to invasive ways of finding out who or what has changed in my life, so it's likely they'll want to know why I am with you so much. I figure if I give them an upfront answer, its less likely one of them will dig intrusively into your life as well."

"Well," I said, oddly touched that he wanted to prevent intrusively into my life, "I like hanging out with you and I really enjoyed our date, so is there a label you want to put on this?" I had a feeling that I knew where he was going with this, but I wanted him to take the lead, so as not to overstep.

"I guess, what I am trying to ask, is are we dating? Are we a couple?" he asked, leaning forward, his hazel eyes meeting my gaze.

"I think I'd like that," I said, reaching my hand across the table to cover his. It was a small gesture, but it felt right. Not too intimate, not too intruding. Just right.

"I would too," he said, smiling.

"So, I guess that makes you my boyfriend?" I said, instantly cringing as I said it. "Ew, wait no, I take that back. That sounds so cringy when I say it out loud."

"Significant other?"

"That sounds much better and far less like a YA novel," I said, smiling as I took a sip of my mocha. Just then Spencer's phone rang. He motioned for one second, picking up the phone.

"This is Dr. Reid," he said. Instantly, I saw his face harden ever-so-slightly. I knew then that he absolutely was getting called into work.

"I'll be there in 30," he said, hanging up. He turned to face me, his face already preparing to apologize.

"Duty calls?" I asked.

"Yeah, and I'm really sorry-" he started, but I waved him off.

"No need to apologize. Someone needs to protect us from the serial killers of the world."

"Thanks, and I'll call you when I get back and maybe teach you to make pad thai?" he said, gathering his files and coffee.

"Sounds great," I said, getting up to help him. "There you are."

"Thanks."

"Be safe, okay?" I said.

"I will," he confirmed. I tentatively stretched on my toes, and gave him a soft peck.

"Feel free to call me, okay?"

"I will," he affirmed. "See you when I get back."

"Great…Bye!" I said, and with that he turned to leave the shop. I sat back in my chair, the conversation now hitting me.

Oh. My. God.

I was _dating_ someone.

I was in a_ relationship_ with someone.

This was a major break in routine, but it technically was allowed. I finished drinking my coffee as I thought over the day I had ahead.

I had work and then dinner and then sleep.

So exciting.

But the mere prospect of Spencer calling did give me something to look forward to. I quickly gathered my stuff and began my trek to my apartment to get ready for work. After I showered, I was about to get dressed when I noticed a text on my phone from Spencer.

_Heading to Texas – call you later?_

I quickly sent a response.

_Sounds perfect. Be safe!_

I got ready for the day, ensuring the door was locked tightly. As I made my walk to work, I felt a certain pep in my step and a smile on my face. There were feelings inside of me that I hadn't felt in years. When I sat at my desk at a job that I held a certain amount of hatred for, I couldn't help by think of the messy haired doctor and his many quirks.

And I couldn't wait to try his famed pad thai.

I also couldn't wait to see him again.


	23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next weeks progressed with Spencer and I talking on the phone when he was away with work, going on the occasional date when he was back, which did include an attempt to teach me how to make pad thai (spoiler: it was _very_ good).

Before I knew it, it had been two and half months, and it was when Spencer and I reading on my couch after a very filling dinner of spaghetti that he asked me a question.

"What are you doing this Saturday night?"

"Probably just hanging out here, so nothing much…Why?"

"Well, the team and I were going to go out for some drinks and food, and Derek and Penelope have already figured out who you are and I think they would like to meet you?"

"They technically already have met me," I pointed out.

"That's what I said," he said, "But they want to meet you as my 'girlfriend' instead of 'Hotch's friend,' as Penelope eloquently put it."

"I haven't seen much of Hotch lately," I mused. "I saw him last week at Backroads, but he had to rush out."

"You're changing the subject."

"Cute and smart," I said, getting up to put our dishes in the sing. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"You can say no," he said, following me.

"It's not that I don't want to," I confessed. "It's just…"

"It's just what?"

"This team…it's like your family, right? And, that's a pretty huge deal to meet your family."

"Technically, you already met them," he said.

"Using my own words against me?" I groaned, giving him a look.

"Alright, alright," he said, putting his hands up defensively.

"It's just…I'm a private person and I'm a little worried that they're going to interrogate me and demand background checks," I said.

"We may be the FBI, but they do know their limits," he said.

"I know, I know…" I said, my eyes flickering to my bedroom door, my mind wandering to the contents of that safe. I knew that it was all they would find, but the nagging, defensive part of my brain kept asking the ever-dreaded 'what-if.'

What if they found out?

I had now just begun to grow roots and begin to care for people again, and a blown cover could mean it would all be gone.

Again.

"Why are you so nervous?" he asked.

"It's just…I've never really done this before…and I really, really like you and I really like this," I confessed. "I just don't want to ruin it."

"And you won't," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "I promise I'll tell them to remain calm and not be overly-intrusive."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Then I guess," I said, turning to face him, "I can survive for one night."

"You make it sound like it's life or death," he said, laughing slightly.

"I've always had a flair for the dramatic," I murmured, giving him a quick kiss before slipping from his grasp. "I have to wash these dishes. Help me?"

"Of course," he said, grabbing the soap as I grabbed the dishes. We washed for a few minutes in silence, before he spoke once again, "So I think the plan is for 8:30 Saturday night? I can pick you up?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said, washing the dishes absentmindedly. Silence once again overtook us, before a thought crossed my mind. "You haven't met Caroline."

"I haven't, that's correct."

"If I have to meet your friends – I know I already met them – you have to meet mine," I said.

"That seems fair."

"I think she should be free Sunday? Brunch?" I proposed.

"Sounds good," he said. "See how easy that was?"

"Ha-ha-ha," I mocked, "So funny, Mr. FBI."

"I always knew you found me funny," he said, drying the now clean dishes.

"It's true," I said, grabbing a towel to dry my hands. "Oh, shoot it's 10, you probably have to go."

"It's fine, I don't mind driving back late," he said.

"I don't want you to be tired," I argued.

"It's a 10 minute drive," he said. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so," I said, deciding not to argue. "I'm going to turn on Dateline, want to join?"

"You date an FBI profiler and then watch a show about serial killers?" he asked.

"Eh, I've always been intrigued by the horrors of the world," I joked pulling him to the couch. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until I found what I was looking for.

"Perfect! With barely a minute to spare, do you want a snack?"

"No, let's just stay here?" he said, pulling me into his chest.

"I'm okay with that plan," I said, just as the Dateline began to play. The first fifteen seconds began to play, and I felt my heart sink.

"Today's episode focuses on the Cártel del Golfo, a cartel located on the border of the Rio Grande in Texas, that is known for it's ties to drug trafficking and human trafficking rings to and from both Mexico and the United States," the narration came.

"Uh, you know what," I said, turning off the TV abruptly. "I really don't want you driving too late tonight and we both have work tomorrow morning."

"I already told you that I am-"

"Spencer, please?" I asked, trying to hide my elevated heart rate. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, grabbing his coat and keys. He gave me a quick kiss before letting him leave. I locked the door behind him, staring at the TV.

"Cártel del Golfo…" I murmured, pushing my hair to the back of my head. Shaking it from my thoughts, I got ready for bed.

As I laid in bed, I wish I could say that I fell asleep easily. But my mind was filled with those images that had haunted me years earlier, those voices that had kept me awake years before, and the sirens that provided no relief.

I guess it's true that you never truly escape your past.

It always finds a way to catch up to you.

I didn't get any sleep that night.


	24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Saturday came no matter how much I pretended it didn't exist. Before I knew it, I was sitting in Spencer's car outside of Linda's Bar and Grill.

"This is going to be fine, right?" I asked, turning to face him. "You told them no interrogating, right?"

"They don't bite," he said, getting out of the car. "Now come on…They're waiting for us."

"You're lucky. We can't even meet with Caroline till next week because of some stupid job thing," I groaned, getting out of the car.

Following him into the restaurant, I soon found myself in front of a table of the members of the BAU. I recognized Hotch, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and JJ. I assumed that the new, unfamiliar woman was the newest addition to the team after Emily left the BAU to work for Interpol, running the London office.

"You must be Dr. Alex Blake?" I asked, gesturing as I spoke. "I'm Sarah."

"Pleasure to meet you," she said, giving me a smile.

"Hotch," I said, "It's good to see you…And JJ, congrats on the wedding!"

"Thank you," she said. I tentatively glanced at Derek and Penelope, who I could already see where analyzing my every move; Penelope with glee and Derek with suspicion. Spencer seemed to sense my discomfort, and grabbed my hand under the table as we sat. I glanced at him and smiled, squeezing his hand a few times.

An uncomfortable silence arose over the table. It seemed that no one knew quite what to make of the new comer. Like that song? From Sesame Street?

_One of these things is not like the other…_

Surrounded by profilers and members of the FBI, I had never felt more on edge.

"So," JJ said, interrupting the silence, "Reid was telling us that you work at a local PR firm?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a sip from my water glass, "I'm basically a secretary, so not nearly as high-paced as what you all do."

"So, let's cut to the chase," Derek said, "How exactly did you get tangled up with our Boy Wonder here?" I snorted lightly at the nickname.

"Well," I said, glancing at Spencer, "He recommended a book to me while dropping me off after Rossi's amazing carbonara lesson – thank you again for that – and then we ran into each other, started to hang out with each other a little bit… And at some point, he convinced me to go on a date to some restaurant that apparently, you recommended? And then we just, started dating?" I looked at Spencer before continuing. "That's the general, abridged version, I guess?"

"So, wait, let me get this straight," Derek said to Spencer. "You asked out her?"

"Yeah?"

"Pretty boy has got more game than we thought," Derek said, laughing and nudging Spencer. The uncomfortable atmosphere of the table melted away as conversation ensured.

"How is Henry?" I asked, turning the blonde woman.

"He's getting bigger by the day," she said, her face full of pride and love.

"He must be pretty excited about Halloween," I said, realizing that the holiday was next week.

"It's practically all he talks about," she said. "And we all have Uncle Spence to thank for that."

"Uncle Spence?" I repeated, imagining a little child calling Spencer that. "That's precious!"

"Yeah, Henry just adores Spence," she said. "Spencer is technically his godfather but he comes over a lot."

"I didn't realize Spencer was good with kids," I said, glancing at Spencer who was engaged in a conversation with Alex.

"You wouldn't think that a genius like him would do so well with kids, but he is really great with them," she said. Her tone had a tone that highly indicated she was dropping a hint. I chose to ignore said hint.

I hadn't thought about the idea of kids in years… I didn't even know if I wanted them.

Did he?

Could I even have kids?

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I mentally reprimanded myself. We had only been dating for a few months.

The conversation at the table broke as the waitress came to take all of our orders. I decided to order a glass of red wine that would, hopefully, get me through this dinner without freaking out.

I listened as the BAU team ensued in conversation. I watched the team of profilers discuss their lives and recount the places they had been.

"How do you look at all this stuff day after day, and not let that get to you?" I asked Penelope.

"Well," she said, sipping her mixed drink, "I, personally, like to look at the good that exists…like puppy videos!" At this, she whipped out her phone. "Okay, wait, let me show you this one! It's a puppy…and a rubber duck!" I watched Garcia pull up the video and watched the short clip. "But it's different for everyone, we each have something that makes the horrors palatable."

"That makes sense," I said, "I could never do it, though." Garcia didn't respond for a second. I met her eyes and the first thing that hit my mind was not a pleasant thought.

_She knows_.

She avoided my eyes before speaking.

"It's not for the faint of heart."

Maybe she didn't know.

Wow, I'm being very paranoid, huh?

Luckily, the arrival of food rescued me from my thoughts. I took a bite of my burger, grateful that I had gone with my gut when ordering. To think, I almost ordered a salad and soup thing.

The table ate in silence, except for the occasional conversation. I excused myself to go the restroom after I finished my glass of wine. When I washed my hands, the door opened.

It was Penelope.

"You know, don't you?" I said. She nodded clearly nervous. I let out a small chuckle. "I should've told Daniel to beef up the background check, make sure everything was unable to be unsealed, but then again, you are the FBI."

"I-" she started, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Someone new was in your friend's life, you wanted to be safe, I get that-"

"No," she said, interrupting me, "I'm sorry about your parents…It's not fair."

I froze. In four years, no one had ever brought them up.

"Life's not fair," I said, turning to face her, leaning against the counter. "But thank you."

"I'm not going to tell them," she said.

"Doesn't really matter," I said. "Daniel gets wind of someone unsealing my records, I'll be gone within the week."

"I'm good at what I do," she said. "He won't find out." I gave her a puzzled look.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "You could have told them, you could have never mentioned it to me, so why?"

"You're good for Spencer," she said. "He really, really likes you and for the first time, he's not staying letting work consume him…And I just wanted to make sure you weren't insane, honest. I didn't think that you…"

"Thanks," I said. "So how much exactly do you know?"

"The basics…I didn't go too far into detail once I realized what it was."

"Then you must know he escaped recently."

"I do, but I also know that the FBI, especially the BAU is really good at what-"

"No," I said, cutting her off. "This… no one else can know. Even you finding out, I should tell Daniel, but… I…I'm attached." I wouldn't admit it, partially because I wasn't even aware of it at that time, but I wasn't attached to anything there, except for a certain genius.

"Just promise me something?" she asked. "And I know that you barely know me and you have no obligation to me or anything, but-"

"What is it?"

"If you have to…leave…don't hurt him," she said, meeting my eyes.

"I'll try my best."

"And if you need help, or anything immediate, please contact me," she said, whipping out her phone. "Contact info?" I obliged, deciding it was better to have one more ally.

"Thanks," I said, giving her the phone back.

"And if you ever need to talk to someone," she said, "about anything, I'm literally always available."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, smiling as I made my way to the exit of the bathroom.

"You know, this makes us friends now, right?" she chirped as we made our way to the table.

"Sure," I said, letting out a soft laugh. We both sat at the table. Spencer's hand grabbed mine from under the table. I smiled at him, giving him a squeeze. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"I took care of the check, so we can head out in a few, if you want?"

I nodded, not wanting to draw more attention to us then possible. Rossi's sudden voice proved that I was wrong.

"Ah, young love," he said patronizingly.

"Shut it," I groaned, giving the older man a smile.

"Oh, she's feisty," Derek said. "I like her Spencer."

"Are they always like this?" I asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Alex said, finishing her beer.

Soon everyone was murmuring their goodbyes as Spencer and I made our way to the car.

"It wasn't that bad, right?" Spencer asked.

"They're nice," I said.

The ride back to my apartment was quiet, both of us decompressing after the conversational evening.

Soon, we were in front of my building and Spencer was walking me inside.

"I'll admit it," I said. "I had a nice time."

"I'm glad to hear it, and they seemed to like you."

"Are you insinuating that I am not likeable?" I asked teasingly, as I reached for my keys.

"Of course not," he said.

"Teasing," I said, laughing gently. I opened the door and turned to bid Spencer goodbye.

Except I didn't really _want_ to say goodbye.

"I guess, this is goodnight," Spencer said, meeting my gaze.

"I guess…" I murmured. Our eyes held each other captive for a moment. "Unless?"

"Unless what?"

"Unless…you wanted to come in?" I asked. I was only realizing how close we were now, his face inches from mine. I could hear his breath.

"You sure?" he asked. He sounded surprised.

"Yeah," I said. Not even a second later, his lips were on mine and his hands found their way to my waist. "Wait, let's get inside first." I laughed lightly, pulling him in and locking the door. We soon found our way to my bedroom, where that night…

That night was special. It was untouched by anything. We were just two people. It wasn't special like those movies show. It wasn't flawless, it wasn't pure passion, it wasn't a big romantic scene.

It was clumsy, it was awkward, but it was human.

It was us.

And that night, it was like the world and reality didn't exist.

Like the files in my safe in that same room didn't exist.

Like the Cártel del Golfo didn't exist.

But it did.

But it sure was nice to dream that it didn't.

As I awoke the next morning next to Spencer, I checked my phone to see an unread text from the night before.

_This is Garcia! It was nice to meet you last night, Danielle._

I quickly deleted the text, checking to ensure that Spencer was asleep.

He was and I grinned at his sleeping form.

With his messy hair and mouth slightly ajar, he looked absolutely adorable.

But I thought back to the text.

Danielle.

It had been so long since someone had called me that.

It felt good.

But there were reasons for that, despite how it had felt the night before.

And _that_ was my reality.


	25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The next two weeks, Spencer was busy with cases, so we did have to postpone the brunch with Caroline. On the upside, I did get a very cute picture of Henry dressed up as Spencer for Halloween. I hadn't told Daniel about Spencer yet, but I figured that I had to do it soon. So, on the fourth of December on the bench, I decided inform him.

"I'm seeing someone," I blurted out as soon as I sat down.

"Name?" he asked, all business.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

"That's one of the people I did a background check on a few months ago, correct?"

"Yeah," I said. "We've been dating for three months now, and I figured you should know."

"You know that-"

"You don't recommend relationships in case of a blown cover, etc., etc.," I said. "I know, but I really like this guy."

"No red flags came up, so I assume it'll be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Here's your brief," he said, handing me the familiar envelope. "But I do have to let you know that you have to be more careful."

"Why?"

"We have intel that indicates that he is no longer in Texas, but heading north."

"You don't think that-"

"There's no reason to think that he knows you're here, but just in case, take extra precautions."

"I will."

"I'll see you next month," he said, getting up and leaving. I watched him leave before thinking about what he said.

Why would he be heading north, unless he knew I was here?

Did he know who I was?

If Penelope could crack my cover, couldn't he?

My phone ringing, interrupted my thoughts. Checking the caller ID, I tucked the envelope into my purse.

"Hey Spence," I said. Spencer had teased me for picking up the nickname, but quickly stopped when I called him 'Pretty Boy' for two days straight.

"Hey Sarah," he said. From his tone of voice, I knew something was up.

"Where are you off to this time?"

"Miami."

"The weather should be nice," I said. "But I'm guessing that means we can't get dinner tonight?"

"I'm so-"

"Don't apologize," I said. "How was baseball with Derek?"

"I can't hit the ball."

"Well, if you get back in time, maybe I can teach you some skills."

"You played?"

"When I was in high school, I was known to dominate the club team," I said, laughing as I got up from the bench, beginning my walk home.

"I might have to take you up on that," he said.

"So, when do you leave?"

"Three hours," he said.

"How long do you think this one will be?"

"Three, four days?"

"But that's just an estimate, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, promise me you'll be safe, okay?"

"I always am…I need to go get my stuff together…I'll call you as soon as I can?"

"Sounds great. Bye Spence."

"Bye, see you soon."

The click of the call ending brought on an unexpected feeling of sadness. I already missed him. And knowing how he got with work and cases, I probably wouldn't hear from him till he was heading home.

I decided to go grab my weekly groceries. I opted to go the smaller market that was farther from my apartment. I didn't go there often, but they had the best sourdough bread in town. And sourdough grilled cheese?

That was my shit.

The walk back to my apartment wasn't long, but it was starting to get a little colder. I tried to tighten my sweater around me, but my bags were just a little too heavy. I picked up the pace to get to my apartment faster. I had approached the building, when my phone rang. Struggling to pick it up, I answered.

"Hello?" I asked, balancing as I made my way to the door.

"Is this Sarah Bennett?"

"Yes, who is this?" I asked, not recognizing the voice. I was now up the stairs.

"…"

"Is this a prank call? Or telemarketer? I'm not interested in whatever you are selling," I said, searching for my keys outside my door.

"…"

"Okay…So I'm just going to let you go," I said. I hung up the phone. I really hated prank calls.

No sooner had I set my bags down, my phone rung again.

"Hello?" I asked, picking up the phone again.

"Aunt Dani?"

I froze. It couldn't be…

"Who is this?" I demanded, sitting down, trying to avoid panicking.

"Ben, it's Ben."

"What, wait, Ben?" I said, panic setting in. "Where are you? How did you contact me?" There was a rustling noise before the next sound came through the phone's speakers.

"Hello Danielle," came a voice. I gripped the sides of the chair as I recognized the voice.

"Nicolas," I whispered, before anger overtook me. "I swear to God, I will kill you if you don't let them go, you sick, son of a bitch."

"Fiesty as ever," he said, his voice smooth and deep. "You have sworn to God, but let me swear to you, that if you notify anyone that I have contacted you, I will kill them."

"What do you want?"

"For you to shut that pretty little mouth of yours and listen."

"I'm listening."

"You are going to do what I say, or else I will kill all of them, you understand me?"

"Why are you doing this? They have nothing to do with anything. This is between you and me," I said.

"And it will be settled between you and I, love…just not yet."

"If you want me to do anything, you are going to have to prove that they are all alive," I demanded. "Ben, Ashley, and Charlie."

"You are in no position to be making demands, Dani," Nicolas said. "But, as I am merciful, say hi guys."

"Dani, do not listen to him," came Ashley's voice.

"Ash?" I asked. "Has he hurt you?"

"We are fine. Dani, do not listen to him. He is going-"

"And now for Charlie's turn!" Nicolas said, a sharp sound of a slap followed by a yelp cutting off Ash.

"Danielle," Charlie's voice came through the speaker, his voice soft and ragged.

"Charlie," I said, "Has he hurt Ash?"

"No, no," he said. "But I can't move Danielle. He has me tied up and keeps drugging me."

"I promise, I'm going to get you guys out of this, okay? Keep Ben and Ash calm, okay?"

"And that's all the time we have for today," came Nicolas' voice.

"You son of a bitch, let them go. Come face me yourself, you coward," I growled, trying to pretend that I wasn't terrified to my core.

"Now, now, let's calm down."

"What do you want from me?" I cried out, feeling my eyes watering.

"Be on the lookout for another call. If you get the police involved, I will kill them and I will enjoy it… Bye-bye Dani…or should I say Sarah?"

The line clicked.

He was gone.

I let the phone fall to the ground.

He had them.

_He fucking had them_.

I felt tears rush down my cheeks.

How did he find me?

How did he find them?

I knew one thing for sure.

If he had them, he was going for me next.

And I'd be damned if I wasn't going to go without a fight.

I made sure the door was locked, and slowly walked to my closet. I searched for the bag that I had been given four years ago, but had never used. Opening it, I grabbed the gun. Removing the safety, I pulled a chair into direct line of the door way.

This was going to be a long night.


	26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I awoke the next morning slumped on the chair. I groaned, feeling the sensation of a headache coming on. I made my way to the door, ensuring it was still locked.

It was.

Making my way to the counter, I grabbed my glass French press, and began to make some coffee.

As the coffee began to brew, I felt the weight of the call the night before hit me.

If he had a way to contact me, it meant that he knew where I was. He likely had eyes on me all the time.

While I knew that I should tell Daniel, his threat loomed overhead. He would kill them. I couldn't go to him unless something drastically bad happened. For now, I'd have to play along.

My coffee finished brewing and I grimaced as I decided to drink it black. More caffeine that way, right?

I sipped and cringed. Then the phone rang.

"Hello?" I asked, praying it wasn't him.

"Hey," came Spencer's voice. I felt a flood of relief wash over me.

"Hey," I said, taking my coffee with me to the chair behind the door, where my gun now sat. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to check-in on you," he said.

"I'm good," I said, trying to stifle a yawn.

"You tired?"

"Yeah," I said, "Couldn't get to sleep last night."

"Did you try taking melatonin pills?"

"No, but maybe I'll try tonight," I said, lying through my teeth. I'd be spending this night, just like I spent last night. "But how's the case?"

"It's bad," he said. "But we feel confident that we'll catch the guy."

"As you always do," I said, feeling a smile come on my face for the first time in hours. "And then you'll come home."

"Of course," he said.

"Do you have to go?" I asked.

"No, we have a few minutes before we are meeting up…everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You sound…off?"

"I'm fine, don't worry," I said.

Neither of us spoke for a minute or so. We just listened to each other breath. It was reassuring to just know he was safe.

"I got to go," he said.

"Okay," I said. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"I will," he said. "Bye."

"Bye," I murmured, hanging up the phone.

What if Nicolas tried to hurt Spencer?

If he tried to hurt anyone because of me, I would never forgive myself.

If Nicolas knew where I was, did he know about Spencer?

Swallowing a gulp of coffee, I knew that if…when something happened to me, as I suspected, I didn't want Spencer caught in the fire.

Remembering Penelope's words to me, I vowed that Spencer wouldn't be hurt because of me, without knowing why. Without thinking about it, I dialed Penelope's number.

"Penelope, hit me!" came her bright, happy voice.

"Hey, this is Sarah," I said,

"Sarah! Hi!" Her tone turned softer.

"Sorry to interrupt you, I know that you guys are busy with a case-"

"I can multitask, what's up?"

"I, uh, I need a favor…"

"Sure, what is it?"

"It's about my…situation. There are always reason to believe that stuff could turn south, and in case I get relocated, I'm going to need you to give Spencer something for me."

"Yeah, of course…What will I be giving him?"

"A video…I can email it to you?"

"Sounds good, I'll hit you with my email address?"

"Yeah…"

"What is this video?"

"It's an explanation…I don't want to hurt him in case I have to leave."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I can send you how to know when to give it to him, but there will be some worst-case scenarios."

"Like what?"

"Like if, God forbid, he finds me."

"That won't happen, right?"

"Hopefully not."

"Okay, just send it to me and I'll plan on never using it."

"Thanks Penelope," I said. "I know that it's not easy to keep a secret like this."

"Just be safe, okay?"

"Always," I said.

"Bye," she said.

"Bye," I murmured, clicking end call. I grabbed my computer and turned it on, clicking on the record button.

"Hey, Spence. If you're seeing this, it means something happened. I haven't been completely honest with you. I'm not from Montana, my parents didn't die in a car crash, and my name isn't Sarah Bennett. I'm Danielle Hansen. I'm from Texas. My parents were killed in an organized hit. I'm in Witness Protection. If you're seeing this, I've either been relocated…or I'm missing. You deserve the truth… so, I'm going to tell you why and how I got here. But Spence, if you see this, don't go looking for me. Don't think about me…move on with your life. And I didn't lie about us…That was real and what I felt for you was real…I should stop rambling, so here's the grand story that you've been waiting for. So here goes nothing… Here's the story of how I fucked up my life…"


	27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Keeping my contact with Nicolas from people was turning out to be more difficult than I had originally thought. His demands were usually "keep quiet," "go for a walk now," or "wear red today," so I knew that he had eyes on me.

I just didn't understand what he wanted from me. But at the same time, I did.

He wanted to prove I was puppet in this game, and that I was completely under his thumb, that he could, at any given moment, kill me, my sister, her husband, and my nephew.

God, hearing them was a blessing and curse. I hadn't seen them or heard from them in four years, so some part of me was grateful for the small piece of contact. But the terror in their voices, the defeat in Charlie's voice, the confusion of Ben, and the urgency of Ash.

She knew that I was going to do anything to protect them, even if that meant putting myself in harm's way. But she still tried to tell me to sacrifice them. She was so selfless, and I missed her so much.

Spencer had begun to grow suspicious. I was taking at least a call a day from Nicolas, cancelling plans left and right. Before I knew it, it had been three months of this awful cat and mouse game.

"Sarah, are you okay? You look tired," Spencer asked one day as we were sitting at Backroads.

"Yeah, just having trouble sleeping," I said, inwardly adding, "_because a psychopath has the only family I have left, captive."_

"Maybe because of the caffeine?" he said, pointing at my black coffee. "I thought you hated black coffee."

"Cheaper," I said, sipping it, cringing at the taste. I had been drinking way more coffee because of my nighttime activities, which included holding a loaded gun behind my locked front door all night long, or until I passed out.

"Sarah, I'm worried about you," Spencer said, reaching across the table. "You aren't taking care of yourself and you are pushing me away."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Work has been busy." Just as Spencer opened his mouth to speak, my phone rang, prompting him to shoot me a look that said, "Really?"

"One sec," I said, answering the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello Dani," came Nicolas' voice. I hated when he called me that.

"Yeah, this is Sarah. How are you doing today?" I said, silently excusing myself from the table, much to Spencer's displeasure, to exit the coffee shop.

"Rather warm greeting today," he said.

"What do you want?"

"Right to it, huh? No foreplay?" I grimaced.

"Nicolas, what do you want?" I said, more forcefully this time.

"Who's that skinny man with you?" he asked.

"That's none of your business."

"I would have thought you would've learned by now," he chuckled, "everything you do is my business, love."

"He's…a friend," I said, hoping that he hadn't seen me with Spencer before.

"Based on the display a few nights ago, maybe I should be a friend of yours too…quite the little fiend in bed, aren't you?"

"You can see in my apartment?" I whispered, feeling my skin crawl. That's it, I'm moving out.

"Of course, and, darling, you should get some sleep…When I come for you, a gun and locked door won't stop me."

"Fine. He's my boyfriend," I said, wanting him to shut up.

"How long?"

"About six months," I said, "I swear, leave him out of this."

"Well, that's up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I know he is FBI darling, and I just can't have him around you."

"No-" I began, but was cut off by the click of a gun.

"Remember who you are talking to…Maybe I'll start with little Ben here? Or Ash, and you know I would take my sweet time with her, before going to Charlie? Or maybe-"

"Don't you dare."

"That's up to you. And remember, I have eyes and ears, everywhere." And with that the phone clicked.

I felt tears prick at my eyes. How could I do this to Spencer?

I love him.

Oh my God.

_I love him._

But I couldn't put my happiness before my family and their safety. Taking a breath, I knew exactly what I had to do. I walked back into the shop and sat at the table.

"Work again?" Spencer asked. Perfect. At least I could start a fight and make this come out of nowhere.

"Yeah, but, you know, you really can't complain about it, so I don't want to hear it," I said, snapping.

"Woah, what's this about?" His voice sounded shocked, and I knew that he was. This was coming out of nowhere.

"You. Being gone all the time! Never letting me know if you are okay. Never telling me _anything_. Acting like you're the smartest in the room," I said, knowing that the last statement would sting. He hated that.

"Sarah-"

"And then you have the nerve to get upset when I have to take a phone call for work! Like, what is that Spencer?"

"I get annoyed because you work a job that shouldn't require you to pick up the phone when we are on a date," he said.

"Oh, so just because I'm not chasing serial killers means my job isn't as important as yours? Real nice, Spencer."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Well, then how did you mean it Spencer? Please, enlighten me, oh brilliant one."

"What has gotten into you?"

"Maybe this isn't working," I said.

"What?"

"This…us," I said. "We are clearly fooling ourselves if we think that this is healthy."

We sat in silence with Spencer looking at his coffee cup, not speaking. God, I hated seeing him upset and confused. My chest physically hurt for him.

But I had family to think about, and there was no telling what Nicolas would to them and Spencer if I refused his order. So, I stood up and grabbed my purse.

"I'm sorry Spencer. This isn't working," I said. "We're done." I refused to meet his eyes, leaving the coffee shop and walked home, ignoring the fact that he didn't try to stop me.

I made my way to the apartment building, entering my apartment and dropping my bag at the sight that laid before me.

My apartment had been ransacked. There was stuff thrown around. I ran to my room, praying that the safe was fine.

I opened the door and nearly screamed.

My walls were covered in pictures of me, from meetings at the park with Daniel to Spencer and I watching TV together on my couch. My flower picture was thrown on the ground, the safe was completely empty, but most disturbingly, there was a single yellow rose on my neat bed, a stark contrast to the mess that was now my apartment.

He had been here.

He was in my apartment.

And he left the rose.

He left his calling card.

Picking up the rose, I felt the dread fill up within me.

He was coming for me.

And that thought made me rush to the bathroom and throw up.

I then grabbed my purse and left my apartment. I grabbed a cab and made my way to the cheapest hotel in Stafford.

Then I called Daniel, knowing the consequences of contacting him. Hopefully, my rapid movements meant that he couldn't figure out what I was doing. As the phone rang, my gut tightened in fear for my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew.

But I couldn't live like this anymore.

"Daniel, I'm at Franny's Motel. We need to talk. Now."


	28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"What do you mean you can't be here for three hours?" I asked.

"I'm on another assignment check. It's in North Carolina. If you had told me earlier-"

"God, I know I messed up, okay?" I said. "Do you have someone trying to find them?"

"Since they went missing, we've been searching for them."

"And you were just planning on not telling me?"

"You know that that's one of the rules. Along with notifying your handler of shit like this. Damn it, Danielle," he groaned.

"I know, God," I said. I paused before I asked a question. "What happens now?"

"You're going to get transferred. Given the connections Nicolas has, we are seeing if Interpol is willing to work with us."

"He has connections all over the world, how could Interpol help?"

"Just trust us, we have a plan."

"And what about Ash, Ben, and Charlie?" I asked, thinking of Nicolas's threat.

"We will do everything we can…Look I got to go. I'll be there in three hours. Keep the door locked, don't leave, don't let anyone in. Destroy the phone."

"Got it," I said. The line clicked, indicating that he hung up. I knew that I had to destroy the phone to avoid Nicolas tracking me, but I quickly sent a quick text to Penelope.

_In exactly 12 hours, give Spencer the video. I'm sorry._

Ensuring it sent, I put the phone on the ground. I grabbed my gun, put a pillow over the phone, and fired. The pillow muffled the sound, and lifting it up, I saw the now destroyed phone. I picked it up and threw it in the toilet. I saw the bullet embedded in the wood floor. I moved the carpet over it, hiding it.

Thank goodness for ground floors.

There was a knock at the door. I peered through the peephole to see it was housekeeping, cart and all.

I cracked open the door.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"There was a noise? We wanted to make sure everything is okay?" the woman said.

"Yes, I just fell and knocked over a few things."

"Okay, so sorry to bother you."

"No worries!" I said, closing the door, locking it tightly. I made my way to the bed, sitting on the edge. And then what I did hit me.

I broke up with him. My first romantic relationship in years, and I just…left him at that coffee shop. I could only hope that the video would give him some relief. I would never see him again. And he would probably hate me, but it was better that than he gets hurt because of me. Although, I suppose, he was hurt because of me, but he had friends and family to get him through it.

Caroline wouldn't be so lucky. I would have to convince Daniel to give her some explanation.

A knock at the door drew my attention. I once again looked through the peep hole to see housekeeping again. Cautiously opening the door, I met the woman's gaze.

"Everything okay?"

"My manager said I have to make sure that nothing is broken."

"Oh, it was my stuff that fell!"

"Sorry, ma'am. He was insistent," she said. Groaning inwardly, I opened the door.

"As you can see, everything is fine," I said. She shot me a look as she walked into the room. I kept my eyes trained on her, my back to the door. She inspected every nook and cranny of the room, thankfully not finding the moved carpet. "So, are we good?"

"Yes, I think we are fine, thank you, Mary," came a voice from behind me. Before I could turn around, I felt the unmistakable sensation of a gun against my back. I let out a soft gasp. "Thank you so much for helping me surprise my fiancée."

"No worries! Enjoy your weekend," she said cheerily. An arm gripping mine moved me out of the way of the woman. He didn't speak but his intentions were evident.

_Say anything, and I kill her._

Not willing to let an innocent woman get hurt because of me, I silently watched as she closed the door, smiling brightly at us.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," came the voice behind me. "Someone forgot the rules."

"You work for Nicolas," I said, feeling the gun push harder against my back.

"Way to state the obvious," he said. He turned me to face him. He looked too familiar.

"Who are you?"

"You don't remember me? And here I thought I made quite the impression, what with you threatening to 'destroy any chance of me having kids,' was it?"

"You're from the bar," I said, remembering that night at Barry's Bar with Caroline. "Nicolas has had eyes on me that long?"

"Well, you can ask him that, after all, you'll be seeing him very soon."

"Over my dead body," I said, trying to rip my arm away from him.

"Nicolas has made specific arrangements that you'll be seeing him with your own eyes, alive," he said. "Now here's what's going to happen. You are going to walk with me to my car. You will not make a scene, or your family is dead and so is the entirety of the motel staff. Got it?"

"Yes," I said, knowing that there was no way to get out of this. My gun was in the bathroom and his grip on my arm was far too strong. I had to wait and save energy until I could escape.

"Let's go, _fiancée_," he said, pushing me forward. He had me in front of him, gun still to my back. To anyone who saw us, he looked like my significant other, holding me as we walked. We didn't garner any unwanted attention. "Get in the car." He pushed me towards the car, his grip gone. "If you run, they die." He gestured to a family getting out of their car.

He had a gun, and wouldn't hesitate to shoot them. I decided to get in the car, without complaint. He got in the front seat, starting the car.

"Now," he said, grabbing something from the backseat, "Night-night." With rapid agility, he stabbed me in the neck with a needle.

I yelped, my hand coming up to meet the injection site.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, grimacing at the pain.

"Rest up," he said, "you're going to need it."

The world began to blur and sway, and before I knew it, I had given into sleep. The last thing I thought before I was enveloped in darkness was if Nicolas didn't kill me, Daniel absolutely would.


	29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THIRD PERSON POV

Penelope Garcia looked at the message on her phone.

_In exactly 12 hours, give Spencer the video. I'm sorry._

Sarah, or Danielle, had sent that to her 10 hours ago. She immediately headed into work, remembering the encrypted folder saved on her private server.

Penelope hadn't heard from Spencer that day, so she decided to take some directive. If Sarah wanted Spencer to see the video, that meant Spencer didn't know where she was. Ten hours was close enough to twelve, right? Taking a breath, she dialed Spencer's number.

"This is Dr. Reid." Even from just the tone of his voice, Penelope knew something was wrong.

"Spencer, can you come in? I have to talk to you."

"Not right now, can it wait till tomorrow?"

"Spencer. It has to do with Sarah," Penelope said. Spencer didn't speak for a moment.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes," he said. The line clicked.

Those 15 minutes were some of the longest in Penelope's life. She glanced at the monitors, used to the horror, and was unaware of what she was about to witness.

"Hey, I'm here," came Spencer's voice from behind her.

"Hey, before I show you this, just know…she made me promise."

"Garcia, what are you talking about?"

"Just…watch." Penelope opened the email and clicked on the attachment. She hadn't watched it, promising that she wouldn't betray Sarah's trust and confidence.

She clicked play and Sarah's face appeared on the screen. Spencer felt a tightening in his chest.

"Hey, Spence. If you're seeing this, it means something happened. I haven't been completely honest with you. I'm not from Montana, my parents didn't die in a car crash, and my name isn't Sarah Bennett. I'm Danielle Hansen. I'm from Texas. My parents were killed in an organized hit. I'm in Witness Protection. If you're seeing this, I've either been relocated…or I'm missing. You deserve the truth… so, I'm going to tell you why and how I got here. But Spence, if you see this, don't go looking for me. Don't think about me…move on with your life. And I didn't lie about us…That was real and what I felt for you was real…I should stop rambling, so here's the grand story that you've been waiting for. So here goes nothing… Here's the story of how I fucked up my life…" Sarah trailed off.

Spencer watched the screen, his face void of any emotion. How was he supposed to feel? She was just gone?

"So, the beginning, um, yeah…Well, first of all, I went to college at Colombia, full ride for journalism. My parents were so proud. I got lucky and started working for The New York Times, mostly little things, editing and such. You wouldn't find any of my articles, because I hadn't written any yet… But it was when I went home to Texas for Christmas that this all really begins. I was talking to my dad one morning a few days after Christmas when he mentioned a sudden increase in missing people, mostly college-aged girls…I didn't think much of it, until I realized that the girls were mostly from San Antonio and Corpus Christi. I talked to my supervisor and got her permission to go investigate…I mean, I was ecstatic! I was new and suddenly allowed to try investigative journalism…" Sarah said.

Penelope paused the video, turning to look at Spencer.

"You okay?"

"Please…play it," Spencer said, sitting in the spare chair, face void of emotion but mind deep in thought.

"So, I went to San Antonio first. I talked to police and they all said the same thing. Uptick in girls missing and uptick in drugs on the streets. I went to Corpus Christi and found the same thing. That's when I considered the idea of a sex trafficking ring…I mean, that was the most probable thing. And it turned out, I was right…but I didn't have any hard proof. So, I did something incredibly stupid…I posed as a college-aged woman living by herself right in the middle of the abduction zone," Sarah said, laughing on the screen.

"I was naïve…I thought that if I could just find evidence, that I could start my journalistic career and help so many women…It turned out to be more difficult than that… I was undercover for months. Then one night, I met him at a bar. Nicolas Smirnov…Promised me a better future if I would go home with him. I didn't, and that would be the only good decision I made of this whole saga…However, he did get another girl, and I followed them into the parking lot where he drugged her and drove off with her passed out in the backseat of his car. I snapped a picture of his license plate, and found out where he was from. Oakville, a small-town right between the two cities. I did more digging and more investigative work…and if I was to walk you through all the steps I did, we'd be here for hours…but basically, I ended up connecting Nicolas to a cartel that operated on the Rio Grande border, Cártel del Golfo."

"Cártel del Golfo…that was on a Dateline episode we started watching… They mentioned the name and she got really uncomfortable," Reid said, pausing the video as he heard the cartel's name. "She turned it off immediately and had me go home…"

"She didn't want you to connect the dots," Penelope said, trying to avoid him from beating himself up over it.

"Just, let's keep watching." Reid pressed play.

"So, I ended up interviewing families and anyone who would listen on the Rio Grande border who had seen what was happening…their testimony ended up being enough to convince my supervisor that this was bigger than we thought. I ended up contacting and getting help from the FBI Sex Crimes Division to help bust the ring…But someone I interviewed leaked that I was searching for information…Two days before we were supposed to infiltrate the ring, my parents…they were killed in an organized hit. Shot in the head, a single yellow rose on the doorstep of their house…My sister found their bodies… When we finally busted the operation, we got almost everyone was caught, except for Nicolas' second-in-command, some guy named Robert Pavlov…When Nicolas was in interrogation, he listed facts about me and my family…threatened them…claimed responsibility for the deaths of my parents…We didn't take it seriously, until I was jumped outside of the police station. Thankfully, I was fine, but I do owe this cute, little scar to that incident," Sarah said, pointing towards the white scar on her eyebrow that was nearly impossible to see unless you were looking for it.

"Idiot busted my eyebrow open before a few of the cops pulled him off me…We weren't sure how deep it went, especially with Pavlov unaccounted for…But now I'm getting into some seriously classified information. But it was at that point that it was decided that I had to go into Witness Protection until Pavlov was arrested and it was time for me to testify. My sister, her husband, and their son also had to go into Witness Protection so that they couldn't be used as blackmail to get me to recant or whatever the hell they want me to do. I was moved to Stafford, given a fake background, given a handler…I was given rules. Live by a routine and try to make it to the next day. Stay alert and awake. Don't talk about the past. Don't alienate myself. Don't draw attention to myself. Don't get close to _anyone_. Well, I think it's safe to say that I broke every single one of those rules with you Spence." Sarah laughed slightly, but the tears in her eyes were evident.

"I was caught in this mundane routine, this horrible pattern, but then you and your team came in and…I couldn't help it. You became a part of my life, and I…I so grateful for that. But you deserve to know the truth, and this is it. And I'm sure you're asking why I had to leave. Well, Nicolas broke out of prison, and there's a good chance I get relocated or I…I could be dead. I am… so sorry, Spence. I did the selfish thing. I got close to you knowing that there was a good chance it would end badly. And I know that you probably won't ever forgive me. But Spence? I…I really, really…care for you. And I am so sorry. Goodbye, and keep an eye on everyone for me," Sarah said, smiling sadly as she reached for the end button.

The video froze on her smiling face. Spencer stared at the screen.

Her name was Danielle.

It fit her.

"Garcia, when did she send you this?" he asked.

"I've had the video for months, but she asked me to show it to you about 10 hours ago," Penelope said, showing him the text.

"She broke up with me," Spencer said. "Hours before she sent that message. She took a call, came back into the coffee shop, and broke up with me."

"She probably had her cover blown, got orders to be relocated," Penelope said.

"No, this was different. She was stiff the whole time she was on the phone, and picked a fight with me. She had been getting calls more and more frequently, wasn't sleeping, was pushing me away…"

"I can hear your brain working…What is it?"

"Garcia, figure out who her handler is."

"Sure, yeah," Garcia said. "It's going to take me a while, because she never mentioned him. But, Spencer, um…why?"

"I think," Spencer said, turning to leave, already dialing Hotch's number, "that she's in serious trouble."


	30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THIRD PERSON POV

Spencer left the BAU offices after calling Hotch and telling him of his suspicions that something was wrong. He began heading straight for Sarah's apartment. His brain was fired at a million thoughts a minute. Something wasn't right.

Everything from that phone call she took to the wording of what came out of her mouth. She hadn't been sleeping. Her finger picking had gotten worse. She probably hadn't even noticed it, but it was a nervous tick that she had that had progressed much more in the past few months.

He reached her apartment building and made his way to the second floor. He stopped in his tracks. Her door was open. Reaching for his gun, he carefully entered the apartment.

It was a mess.

Her belongings were scattered over the floor, there were broken dishes in the kitchen, her chairs were overturned, books torn apart, and curtains ripped from the windows. Spencer's breath hitched. He cautiously made his way to her room, praying for the best. The sight in front of him was unnerving.

The walls were covered in pictures. Pictures of her.

At work.

At the park.

At the coffee shop.

At the library.

On her bed.

There were pictures of her with Aaron, Caroline, Spencer, and one with a man who Spencer didn't recognize.

Her flower picture was thrown to the ground, revealing a now-empty safe. But the bed was untouched, except for the yellow rose.

_"Shot in the head, a single yellow rose on the doorstep of their house…"_

Spencer could practically hear her voice from the recording.

Nicolas…that was his name. Spencer knew that he was involved with this. Dialing Morgan's number, he listened as the phone rang.

"This is Morgan."

"Morgan. Has Hotch filled you in?" Spencer asked, trying to mask the desperation in his voice.

"Yeah, how are you doing kid?"

"I'm at her apartment right now. I don't think she's okay. We need to get a team in here, now," Spencer said, ignoring Morgan's question.

"Kid," Morgan said, trying to get Spencer to listen. "We have a team going out there, but if this guy has her, you know we have to turn it over to the Marshals, right?"

"Yeah," Spencer said, swallowing. "I know."

"We'll be there in 5 minutes. Sit tight," Morgan said, hanging up the phone. Even from just talking to Spencer, he knew that he was concerned.

Spencer walked around her apartment, looking for anything that could show that she was okay, that what he felt in his gut was wrong. But as he walked through the destroyed apartment, the feeling only got stronger.

He took a picture of the mysterious man in the photos, vowing to show Garcia the picture to see if facial recognition could be run.

"Spence," came JJ's voice from the doorway. They were here. Morgan, JJ, and Rossi.

"JJ," he said. "There's no sign of a struggle. As far as I can tell, she walked in and walked out of here."

"Hey, Spence, look at me," JJ said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You can't be here."

"JJ, I'm not leaving."

"Kid," Morgan said.

"No! I'm not leaving just because I knew her. I mean, if anything, my personal insight to her will help us," Spencer rambled. The team didn't push anymore, knowing that he wouldn't listen. They began to analyze the scene, before all coming to the same conclusion.

Sarah had entered her home, saw the scene, and fled.

"Hotch," Morgan said, calling the unit chief, "I got you on speaker. Have we contacted the Marshals?"

"I called my contact over there, and he informed me that Sarah was indeed in Witness Protection. He also said that her handler was called to Stafford yesterday to get Sarah from a motel. When he got there, she was gone," Hotch said.

"What are they doing to find her?" Spencer asked.

"Well, right now, they are unsure if she was forced to leave or left of her own volition. They are trying to find security footage from the motel to see if they can figure out what happened…We've been ordered to leave the investigation alone. This is a Marshal issue."

"Hotch-"

"Reid, you know my hands are tied. I've asked for them to keep us updated, but other than that, there's nothing else we can do."

"So what? We just hope that guy doesn't have her while the Marshals try to find her?" Spencer asked. "We've been allowed to consult before, why aren't we allowed now?"

"Apparently, they already have another department consulting," Hotch said, his voice through the phone lowering.

"Who?" JJ asked.

"The CIA."

"Wait, why is the CIA interested in this case? I thought Sarah was a witness for a sex trafficking ring on the border?" Rossi asked.

"That's all I know," Hotch said. "I'm sorry. The Marshals are coming now, so you all need to leave now, or else they will arrest you. Get back to the office now."

The call ended and the team was silent. They awkwardly switched their gaze between Spencer and each other.

"Let's go," Spencer said, exiting the apartment. Everyone made their way to the cars, JJ volunteering to ride with Spencer.

"Spence," she said. "I am so sorry."

"I shouldn't care, right?"

"What do you mean?" JJ asked. Spencer exhaled as he turned on the car.

"She broke up with me yesterday, but I swear, JJ, I think this is connected."

"It probably is," JJ said, her heart aching for the boy next to her. "I watched the video Spence…She cares for you, and that video is from months ago."

"I know," he said. "But she didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"You know that she couldn't."

"I know."

"You know, we aren't going to stop looking for her, right?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They drove in silence with Spencer watching the building disappear from sight in the rearview. As they approached Quantico, Spencer gripped his phone as he made his way directly to Garcia.

"I think this guy is important. Whoever he is, he was in a lot of pictures with Sarah, I mean, Danielle. Whoever he is, we need to know who he is," Spencer said, handing the phone to Garcia.

"Got it, but Spencer, I don't know if I will be able to get anything from this," Garcia said, warning him.

"I know, but we have to try…please," Spencer asked, for the first time feeling the reality of the situation.

"Yeah, of course…Hotch wants everyone at the roundtable," Garcia said. "You all have to be briefed officially on Sarah." Spencer made his way to the room where everyone was already seated waiting.

"Let's get started," Hotch said, pulling up Sarah's picture. Hotch began to speak, everyone's eyes fixed to the screen. "This is Danielle Hansen, or, as we know her Sarah Bennett…"


	31. CHAPTER THIRTY

The first thing I thought when I woke up was, "Wow, my head hurts like a bitch." I opened my eyes to survey the room around me.

I was on the ground, my hands retrained by what I thought was chains. Giving it a soft pull, I realized that there it was retrained to something. Even if I had the strength to stand, I was stuck. So, there goes my plan of running out of here. It was dark and smelled of mildew. There weren't any windows, so I had no idea if it was day or night. I could hear something, it sounded like voices. A sudden woman's yell for help caused me to widen my eyes.

"Ash!" I yelled for my sister. I heard something again, but I couldn't tell if it was her. It was then that I felt someone watching me, and I had a sinking suspicion of who it was.

"You going to keep hiding in the dark?" I asked, scanning the room for any movement.

"Just for you," came his voice.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You broke the rules," he said, still remaining wherever he was in the room.

"You destroyed my apartment…What did you think I was going to do?"

"I thought," he said, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck, "that you cared for your family."

"Leave them out of this," I said. "You have me. There is no reason for you to have them anymore."

"That's where you're wrong," he said.

"Then let me see them," I demanded. "I'll…I'll do whatever you want, just let me see them." I had to see if they were okay. They had to be okay.

They had to.

"We'll see about that."

"What do you want from me?" I asked. "If you're going to kill me, just do it."

"I was in prison for four years," Nicolas said, his voice sounding farther away. I no longer felt his presence behind me. "Do you know what that was like?"

"I imagine your friends were always willing to help you," I said, trying to figure out where in the dim lit room he was. "You have contacts everywhere, so I'd imagine that it wasn't as miserable as I hoped it would be."

"I was caged," he said, his tone softer now. "No freedom, no nothing. Do you know what I did to fill my days?"

"No, and I really don't care," I said, still unsure of where he was, adrenaline running through my veins.

"I thought every day how I was going to fix the problem that caused me to get there," he said. "And that problem was you."

"Blaming me for your mistakes," I said, laughing to hide the fear that was growing within me. "Classic."

"You ruined everything!" he said, stepping in front of me. He looked almost the same he had four years ago when I saw him arrested. He wasn't as tan as he was then, and his face had hallowed out. His attire indicated he was utilizing connections. His hair was recently cut and cleaned, and he was wearing a suit. But his eyes were the same. Steely, grey and void of emotion.

"You are the one who sold and bartered people like property," I said, avoiding his gaze. "It was only a matter of time before you got caught."

"You ruined everything," he said, ignoring my words. He pulled out his hand from behind him and before I knew it, he had a knife to my throat. It was a cold blade, and I winced slightly at the sensation of it against my neck. "And I had a lot of time to think about what I would do when I got out."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I said, breathing deeply. "Just kill me, then."

"So quickly?" he said, chuckling as he removed the blade from me. "That would be too easy. And besides, I am no fool."

"What do you mean?"

"If I kill you now, how will I guarantee safe passage out of the US?"

"You know that they won't trade for me," I said. "My only value is as a witness at your trial."

"You'd be surprised," he said. "You're worth more than you even realize."

"Then let them go," I said, unsure of what he meant, but concerned for my sister and her family's safety, I decided to play into it. "If I am as valuable as you say, then they aren't playing a part in the bargain…They have nothing to do with this…"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asked. "You won't do anything I say when they're gone. You always try to play the selfless hero, Danielle, when really you are a just a scared little girl."

"If you know me so well," I said, ignoring the pang of hurt I felt at those words, "you know, I won't do anything until I see them, alive and unhurt."

"Fine." He backed-up, removing the knife from my neck. A few seconds later, I heard the sound of a door closing shut. I surveyed the room again, searching for where the door might be. I hadn't seen any light change, so I could only assume the door was behind me. With my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see room was bigger than I assumed it to be. But there was nothing to indicate where I was.

The sound of the door opening and people entering drew my attention. There was a quiet click and the room filled with light. Grimacing, I shut my eyes to give myself a minute to adjust to the change in light. When I opened my eyes, I realized there were three chairs in front of me. And there were three people being retrained to them. My breath hitched as I saw the cloth covering their faces, praying that it was them.

As the men who were restraining them finished, they left. I stared at the figures, unmoving and silent. Before I could call their names, I yelped as my arms shot up, pulling me up.

"I am so glad to be here for this charming family reunion," Nicolas said from behind me. He appeared in my vision and walked to the three figures in front of me, ripping off the cloth over their heads. First Charlie, then Ash, and finally, little Ben. My breath hitched. Charlie's face was bruised, and he was sporting a black eye. Ash had a bust lip, and her hair was messed up. Ben, thank God, was unharmed to the naked eye. Physically, that is. They all seemed to be malnourished.

"Ash?" I asked, trying to get her eyes to open for me. "God, Ash, please, open your eyes!"

"Dani?" she murmured after a second, fluttering her eyes open.

"Ash," I said. "I am so sorry, I never meant for this to happen."

"Aunt Dani?" I turned to look at the boy.

Ben.

"Ben. God, Ben," I said, trying not to cry. "You've gotten so big…"

"Dani, how are you here?" Ash asked.

"I…I couldn't let him kill you and then they got me," I said. "Ash, I am so sorry. I didn't think that they would get you. That's why I had you guys separated from me, I thought it would safer for-"

"Now, I think that's enough small talk for now," Nicolas said, interrupting me.

"No, why isn't Charlie waking up?" Ash said, ignoring him. Charlie hadn't opened his eyes, or responded to any audible stimuli. "Dani, why isn't he waking up? Charlie? Charlie!"

"No…" I said, looking at Charlie's unmoving figure before whipping to face Nicolas. "If you killed him, I swear to God-"

"We keep him drugged up, calm down ladies," Nicolas said nonchalantly.

"Please," I begged. "Let them go. They haven't done anything."

"As I already said," he said, stepping towards me, "no."

"Just Ben and Charlie." Ash interrupted, causing Nicolas to look at her. Her face was firm with resolve. "Let them go. You don't need us all. Besides, two women is easier than four people to control and transport."

Nicolas seemed in thought for a moment. A sick smile spread on his face as he faced me again.

"Let's make a deal," he said, his face centimeters from mine. "You do what I say, Ben and Charlie get taken to a hospital, unharmed. If not, I kill one of them…Deal?"

I didn't answer at first. But seeing the desperation on Ash's face and the terror on Ben's solidified my resolve. Meeting that monster's gaze, I narrowed my eyes.

"Deal."


	32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Once the words had spilled from my mouth and I saw the sickening smile on his face, I knew that I had truly made a deal with Devil.

"Perfect," Nicolas said, before gesturing to something behind me. "Get them out of here." The three men then grabbed Ashley, Charlie, and Ben.

"No!" I screamed, struggling against the chains, but my toes barely hit the floor. "Don't you dare hurt them!"

"Calm down, love," Nicolas said, grabbing my face to get me to stop moving. "You do what I say, and I promise no harm will come to them."

"Why should I trust a single word that comes out of your mouth?" I said, forcing myself to not spit on him.

"Because," he said, stepping forward so that his mouth was by my ear, "you know that I don't break my promises."

"Get away from me," I said, struggling to not kick him, for fear of my family's safety.

"As you wish," he said, stepping away. I let out a loud breath.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk."

"Talk?" I asked incredulously. "You have me chained to the ceiling and are threatening my family, and you want me to talk? About what?"

"These past four years…well, really more of the first 2 ½ years," he said chuckling. "Took us a while to find you, you know."

"You've had eyes on me that long?" I asked.

"As you said," he said, sitting in the chair that Ash had been in moments before. "I have contacts everywhere…Quite the favor I cashed in on to get 24/7 surveillance on you… my contact almost backed out, but nothing that a little more money couldn't fix."

"Fine, what do you want to know," I said, trying not to think about how exposed my life had been.

"How on earth did you stick to such a routine for so long?" he asked, leaning into the chair. "I know you…you're ambitious and you hate predictability."

"It's the same reason I'm making deals with you," I said venomously, "for my sister and her family."

"Ah, yes, you are quite the selfless heroine, aren't you?" he said, laughing before leaning forward to meet my eyes. "But you and I both know that isn't quite true…"

"Shut up," I said, narrowing my eyes. "This is about my time in Witness Protection? Fine. Then let's stay on that subject."

"Feisty as ever," he said. "But I suppose you are right…Why a PR agency as a secretary?"

"It's what I could get," I stated.

"Why yoga and pilates? You were always more inclined towards boxing, correct?"

"Not a ton of places that offer that for women in Stafford," I said, before narrowing my eyes. "Why does this even matter to you? You're going to kill me anyways"

"It doesn't but I'm intrigued. You managed to evade me for nearly three years, and I find that interesting." He said getting up and circling me. "What made you change your routine?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What was it about that man, Doctor Reid, is it? What about him made you abandon routine so _easily_?"

"Why does that matter?" I asked. "That was after you found me and after the two and half years."

"I made the rules, therefore, I can change them," he said nonchalantly, stopping in front of me. "Now, why?"

"I don't know," I said exasperated. "I got bored."

"So, your relationship was born from boredom?" he asked, smirking. He always knew how to get on my nerves.

"That's not what I meant! It's just… I missed… connecting with people… And we just – I don't know – connected," I said, my mind going back to Spencer.

God, I missed him.

"Tell me about him."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I am not going to tell you about Spencer and I's relationship. You had freaking cameras in my apartment, I'm sure that you know all you need to from that," I said.

"Ah, yes, the cameras," he said. "Unfortunately, the video feed was only set up months ago."

Well, that was kind of reassuring.

At least, I had slept without eyes on me at some point in the past year.

"How did you get in my apartment?" I asked.

"I believe I am asking the questions here," he said, smiling.

"Fine. Is there anything else?"

"You didn't answer my last question. Tell me about him," he said.

"How do I know you won't try to hurt him?" I asked.

"Guess that's a risk you are going to have to take… Save your brother-in-law and nephew, or _possibly_ protect your ex, the choice is yours…" he said, walking and sitting back down in the chair.

He knew what I would choose.

The same thing I chose every time.

"His name is Spencer…Spencer Reid. He's a profiler for Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI… he's crazy smart, like basically a genius, multiple BAs and PhDs… He's awkward but in this sweet, endearing way and he is full of interesting facts that I never knew were true… and he always gets so animated when he talks about things that are interesting to him," I said, letting my mind wander to Spencer and forget where I was. "Sometimes, we just sit on my couch and read together… we don't even speak, we just sit together…"

"Now, that wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" he said, smiling wickedly and he stood.

"Just let them go," I said, closing my eyes.

"Of course," he said, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him, "because I promised… And I never break my promise, love."

"Let them go," I said, my voice breaking slightly. He made a gesture to someone behind me, and I heard the door open and close.

"They'll be at a hospital within the hour, and I'll make sure we get surveillance video proof, because I sense you still don't trust my promises?"

"How could I trust the words of a murderer?" I asked, my words sharp as daggers.

"I'll remind you," he said, his face close to mine, "There was a time when you did. Or have you forgotten?"


	33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THIRD PERSON POV

It had been three days.

Three days since Sarah, or Danielle, Spencer thought, had broken up with him and disappeared.

Neither the Marshals nor the CIA had contacted the BAU about Danielle.

It was early afternoon when Garcia called Spencer with news.

"Garcia?" Spencer asked, dropping the file he had been reading on his desk, his attentions now completely on the phone call.

"Reid, I found her handler. His name is Daniel Ortega, and it looks like he was not only her handler, but her sister, Ashley, and her family's handler. According to some reports, Ashley, her husband, and her son have been missing for over three months, but due to some protection rules, Danielle was never informed."

"So, Sa… Danielle, her sister, and her sister's family are all missing? Garcia, that can't be a coincidence."

"Yeah, I thought so too, so I did some digging, totally legal digging, like there was some chipping and cutting of the rules, but totally legal," Garcia said, before Reid interrupted her.

"And?"

"Oh, right! So, anyways, I got into a sealed report that was filed today that shows they may have found Ashley's husband, Charlie, and her son, Ben, at a hospital in Detroit, both unconscious and Charlie was beaten pretty badly, but otherwise they are expected to be okay."

"Wait, so they may have found some of her family, but they haven't contacted us?"

"Reid, you know as well as I that the CIA and Marshals weren't going to tell us anything. Why else do you think I've been doing such deep investigative work on this?"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer said, "Can you get contact information for Daniel Ortega?"

"Just sent it to your phone," Garcia said, "But Reid… be careful."

"I will," he said, hanging up the phone to see a text message with a phone number. Without hesitation, he dialed the number.

"Hello?" asked a gruff voice.

"Is this Daniel Ortega?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid… I know Sa-Danielle. I think we need to talk…"

And that is how Spencer found himself sitting next that man, whom he had only seen through pictures, on the same park bench that she had met with Daniel every month prior.

"So, you are the guy she was seeing, correct?"

"Yes, I'm-"

"I know who you are," Daniel said. "The real question is how do you know who she is – really is – exactly?"

"She left me a video," Spencer said, explaining the situation, telling Daniel what exactly Danielle had said in that video.

"You really shouldn't know about that," Daniel said, rubbing his eyes, before making Spencer look at him. "But that's all she told you?"

"Yeah, but I'm guessing that she didn't tell me everything?" Spencer asked, picking up on Daniel's accusatory tone. "After all, the CIA is assisting the Marshals in trying to find her, right?"

"You would be correct. But I can't tell you anything you don't know already," Daniel said, seeing the confused look on Spencer's face. "This is higher than your security clearance."

"You found her brother-in-law and nephew?"

"Yes," Daniel said. "They were found unconscious at a hospital in Detroit. Ben woke up with morning, but Charlie was given higher doses of etorphine, so he hasn't woken up yet."

"Etorphine? That's an opioid that's used as a sedative in veterinary practice for large animals," Spencer said. "I haven't heard of it being used on humans."

"It's not licensed for humans, but, like other opiates, have found their way to the black market, and growing in popularity, especially with kidnappings. It's dangerous if used incorrectly on humans…there have been cases where victims have died of overdose or apnea."

"Have you interviewed her nephew?" Spencer asked, feeling concern for her safety grow in his gut. "He might remember something."

"He remembers seeing Danielle, and that she made a deal with Nicolas for his dad and him to be freed. Other than that, I can't tell you anything else."

"She made a deal with him? What about her sister?"

"Like I said, I can't divulge any more details," Daniel said, beginning to get up. "Now, I believe that's all I can share, so I must be going."

"Wait," Spencer said, grabbing Daniel's attention. "Just…don't stop looking for her."

"We won't," Daniel said, leaving without another word.

Spencer sat on that bench for a few moments, not sure of how to feel. His whole life, he had always known what to do, how to think, what the next step was. And it felt for the first time in his life, that his brain was a bunch of mush.

He felt like the most useless person in the world.

He should be angry. He committed himself to someone for six months, only for him to find out that he never knew her at all. Even with that video she had left, she still had secrets. But he wasn't angry. He was worried and scared for her.

Gazing around the park, he was acutely aware that he was sitting in the same spot that Danielle had sat. She had sat here and someone had been spying on her.

And it was then that Spencer realized in order for someone to have taken pictures from the angle in the pictures, they would have had to be in one of two places. In the alley across the street or in the building next to it.

And where there were buildings, there were usually security cameras.

Getting up from the bench and grabbing his things, Spencer quickly made his way to the building. The alley was dark and unlit, which would have made it a poor place to do surveillance. He made his way to the building. The bottom floor was a butcher shop. Glancing inside, Spencer realized it would have raised suspicion to take photos from here. Taking the stairs up to the second floor, Spencer's heart dropped.

It was an art studio, with a sign on the front door reading, "Alex's Art Space: $15 for Unlimited Access!" Stepping into the space, Spencer was greeted with two people working on paintings, someone working on pottery, and large, open windows. Perfect for taking pictures of someone in the park.

"Hello, welcome to Alex's Art Space! Can I help you?" came the voice of a woman behind the desk. She was wearing a white shirt and blue jeans splattered with paint, so that was likely her 'art' of choice.

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Do you happen to have security cameras here?"

"Yeah," the woman said, "One right outside the entrance and one right above me here…Why?" She pointed to two cameras, one above her that had a good view of the whole room and one that had a view of the stairs leading to the entrance.

"Has there been anyone who has come in and take pictures out that window?" Spencer asked, ignoring her question and pointing out the window overlooking the park.

"Quite a few people…the lighting and angles makes it a very unique spot for photographers," the woman said.

"Okay, thank you," Spencer said, grabbing his phone and leaving. He dialed Garcia's number.

"Garcia!" she said, cheerily.

"This is Reid," Spencer said, eyeing the camera at the top of the stairs. "I might have a lead…can you get access to some security cameras outside a place called 'Alex's Art Space?'"

"Of course, but what am I looking for?"

"Anyone coming in on days that those photos of Danielle were taken with a camera… I think this is where they spied on her at the park."


	34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

At some point after Nicolas left the room, I must have passed out because I awoke on the ground, my arm muscles sore from being held up by chains.

"You're awake," came Nicolas' voice. Opening my eyes up more, I saw him seated in the chairs across from me. He was relaxed into the seat.

"What are you doing here?"

"You know I like to watch you sleep," he said, shrugging.

"You disgust me," I said.

"If I disgust you," he said, smirking, "I guess you won't want to eat anything, right?"

Just as I was going to tell him where to shove it, my stomach let out a loud growl. I groaned at the shitty timing.

"Well?" he asked.

"Fine."

He pulled out a plate that had a sandwich and an apple on it, as well as a glass of water. He slid them both over to me. Carefully, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. It was ham and cheese. I quickly scarfed both the sandwich and apple down, not caring if it was poisoned. He was going to kill me regardless, so what did it matter poison or gun shot? I drank the water quickly, only now realizing how dry my throat was.

"Thanks," I said, sliding the plate back to him.

"Believe me, you're going to want some strength for what we have planned for you."

"Finally going to kill me?" I asked.

"Oh, no," he said, chuckling as he got up from his chair and disappeared behind me. "Not quite yet, love… I have plans for you…"

I was jolted upwards by the chains being pulled upwards, but this time, my feet were fully on the ground.

"You going to torture me?" I asked, masking the fear in my voice with a hard edge. "You know that I have no information, right?"

"You might not," he said, once again in front of me, far too close for comfort. His hand found its way to my neck, squeezing lightly. I let out a small puff of air, as he smiled. "I was in prison for years because of you…you deserve everything you have coming for you…but not yet."

"What are you waiting for?" I asked. "What are you gaining from me being here?"

"Timing," he said, shrugging and removing his hand from my throat. "We need you to guarantee safe passage out of the US… once we get that, I'll kill you myself."

"I don't know what you think," I said, "but I am not worth anything in the eyes of the government without you behind bars."

"Naïvety was never a good look on you," he said.

"I swear," I said, making eye contact with him, praying my tone didn't give away anything, "I'm not worth anything."

"Continue to believe what you want," he said, "but think about it…"

"There's nothing to think about."

"There's lots to think about," he said, his voice quiet. "Betrayal, lies, deceit, and so on so forth…"

"What about Charlie and Ben?" I asked, changing the topic quickly. "You never proved they were okay."

"Ah, of course," he said, gesturing his head to someone. A laptop found its way into his hands and he opened it and began to play a video.

It was Charlie and Ben, both unconscious, being set outside a hospital. The video was no longer than 15 seconds long. There was a shot of the sign, reading Henry Ford Hospital. That was a hospital in Boston or Detroit or somewhere.

They were safe.

"What do we say?" Nicolas said, his voice patronizing.

"Thanks," I said shortly. He handed off the laptop to someone behind me.

"Now, let's play a game," he said, sitting back down in the chair.

"What are we, kindergarteners?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe I'm in charge," he said.

"Fine. What game?"

"Truth or dare."

"What are we, middle schoolers? Besides, don't think I'll be able to do many dares like this," I said, nodding up to the chains. "But maybe if you-"

"I'm not stupid, love," he said. "But I'll keep that in mind… and the way this game works, is that you'll be the only one doing dares or truths…but as incentive, if you do all of them, I'll answer one question. Fair?"

"Not really, but do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Fine. Truth," I said, resolving to not pick dare. Who knows what he would have me do?

"Why'd you give me up to the police?"

"Because you sold people in sexual slavery. Truth."

"Why'd you go into Witness Protection away from your sister and her family?"

"Because you killed my parents… I wasn't going to let you kill more of my family, but I figured the best way to protect them. Truth."

"Are you going to keep picking 'truth?'"

"Yes. Truth."

"New rule," Nicolas said, "Dares only."

"That's not the game," I said.

"Now it is," he said, his eyes daring me to defy him. The voice in the back of my mind reminded me of my sister somewhere in this building or wherever I was.

"Fine. Dare," I said, shutting my eyes and praying that it wasn't something awful.

"Relax, love," he said, laughing. "Nothing awful, I'm afraid."

"What is it, then?"

"You're going to read this letter," he said as I felt to the floor as the chains lowered.

"A little warning would be nice," I said, wincing as I looked at my knee that hit the ground. It was already bruising.

"Here," he said, handing me the letter, ignoring my complaint. Taking one look at it, I knew what it was.

"You still have this?" I asked, meeting his eyes. His usually hardened gaze was softened slightly.

"Read it. Out loud," he said, sitting down and avoiding looking at me.

Sighing, I looked at my handwriting on the paper. It was water damaged slightly, but was still legible.

"Dear Nicolas," I read, "By the time you read this, I will have left and the police will be on their way…"


	35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

"Don't look for me. If all goes as I plan, we will never see each other again," I said, reading the last line of the letter. "Goodbye, Dani."

"I guess things didn't go as you planned, hm?" he asked, still avoiding looking at me.

"Is that what this is about?" I asked.

"Do you want that to be your one question?" he asked.

"No, but, wait, that's it? You wanted me to read a letter?"

"Ask your question," he said, avoiding my words.

"Fine," I said, knowing what I had to ask. "Are you going to let Ashley go?"

"Eventually," he said, meeting my eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, this is ultimately between you and I."

"What would it take for you to free her now?" I asked.

"I believe I said one question, love," he said, his demeanor smug once again. He began to leave, and I heard the door open. It didn't close. I heard voices speaking, but I couldn't make out the words or the other person. It sounded like someone was reprimanding the other. The voices quieted. Suddenly, I was pulled to my feet.

"New game," he said, appearing before me yet again, knife in hand. "I'm going to be asking questions, and for every lie…well, I think you know."

"Didn't think you liked getting your hands dirty?" I taunted him.

"You don't know anything about me," he said, his face fixed in a scowl. "Do you understand?"

I didn't speak. I wouldn't let him get the satisfaction of seeing me tremble or hearing the quiver in my voice. I always tried to be brave, but the glint of that knife was terrifying to me. I let out a loud gasp as his fist hit my guy. Hard.

"I said, do you understand?" he said, grabbing my face to look him in the eye.

"Yes," I choked out.

"Perfect, now… first question, who did you send that video to?"

"What video?"

Punch.

"You know what video," he said. "The one where you blew your own cover. You sent it to someone, but we can't touch their servers."

"Go to hell," I spit out. He didn't know who I sent it to… but I said Spencer's name. I realized that the cameras must merely be visual, lacking audio.

The knife was pressed against my arm.

"Answer, or I start cutting," he said, leaning towards my ear and whispering, "and you know that I won't be merciful…"

I once again didn't speak. Then the knife pierced my skin.

I screamed.

He slowly drew it along the length of my arm.

"Spencer!" I finally screamed out. "I sent it to Spencer! Please stop!"

"I knew you'd get the hang of it," he said. "Now, why is the CIA investigating your disappearance."

"What?" I asked, meeting his eyes, my arm throbbing in pain. "The CIA?"

"Don't play dumb love," he said, bringing the knife up to my other arm. "You know what happens…"

"I swear, I don't know anything," I said, tone sharp.

Too sharp.

"Liar," he growled, digging the knife into my arm. I once again let out a scream, screaming that I didn't know why and to please, just _stop_.

My eyesight began to blur and I felt myself grow limp.

"No, you don't," I heard Nicolas say as he sharply slapped my face. My eyes opened and I met his gaze. His face became confused as he turned to the side. I felt my eyes droop, the world blurring again.

"Bring her in," he said, his tone resigned. I heard the door open as someone was brought in. Then I felt water dumped on my face, waking me up from my daze. Opening my eyes, I saw the person they had brought in, who was now restrained to a chair in front of me. My heart dropped.

"Caroline," I breathed.

"Sarah? Why are you bleeding? Where are we? What-" she said, but was shut up by a sharp slap by Nicolas. She yelped.

"She never told you?" he asked, grinning at me. "Your little Sarah isn't who she pretends to be, Caroline… and now she has gotten you tangled up in her mess…"

"Sarah, what is going on? What is he talking about?"

"Caroline, I-"

"Shut up," Nicolas growled, pointing the knife at me. "Now, I forgot how you are so willing to put yourself on the front line, but you wouldn't let someone completely innocent be harmed… so this is up to you…"

"Don't hurt her!" I said, my eyes widening for my friend, who was terrified for her life.

"That's up to you, love… Why is the CIA investigating your disappearance?"

"CIA? Investigation? Sarah, what is going on?" Caroline asked, yelping as Nicolas held the knife to her neck. "Oh my God, Sarah? Sarah!"

"Nicolas, don't!" I said.

"Answer my question!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the room.

"I found the letter!" I yelled as he pushed the knife closer against Caroline's throat. "The letters you kept locked in your office safe that proved you were not only operating a human trafficking ring on the Rio Grande border, but were working with multiple terrorist organizations in the Middle East with illegal weapons smuggling, and I gave them the information, but there was evidence of someone higher up than you, and… and they knew that if I was found out, it would likely be under the orders whoever it is…They aren't after me, they're after your boss," I spit out. "Just let her go, she has nothing to do with this!"

I saw Nicolas' face, void of emotion. Then he pulled Caroline up from the chair, and dragged her from the room.

"Don't hurt her!" I screamed after him. I heard the door slam. I heard her scream.

Then I heard the gun shot.

"No!" I screamed, thrashing against the chain holding me up. "You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you, I swear to God, Nicolas, I am going to fucking kill you!"

There was no response. No one came into the room.

I was alone.

And I began to silently cry.


	36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THIRD PERSON POV

"Spencer, do you have any idea how many people come into this art place every day?" Garcia asked.

"I don't know, but the dates of the pictures should help, right?" Spencer asked, looking over the technical analyst's shoulder at the screens.

"Yeah, that helps a ton," she said, "which is why I believe that this is who we are looking forward. She pulled up a picture of a figure. "This same figure came in every time we have a picture from, and always has a camera.

"They're wearing glasses and a hat," Spencer said. "How are we supposed to figure out who it is?"

"And there is the conundrum, my friend," Garcia said, "so I am currently backtracking this person through surveillance cameras all through Stafford, but I'm having to do it manually, so it's going to take a little longer."

"Spencer," came Hotch's voice from behind them. Garcia and Spencer both froze, like two kids who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Hotch," Spencer said, turning to face his unit chief, who was not happy.

"My office. Now," Hotch said, turning and leaving to his office.

"Good luck pretty boy," Garcia said. "I'll hit you when I have anything."

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer said, leaving to follow Hotch to his office.

He found himself seated in the chair across from the unit chief, who looked sterner than he usually did.

"Spencer, why did I just get reprimanded by Strauss for you contacting Danielle's handler?"

Spencer swallowed, knowing that Hotch wasn't happy from the sound of his voice.

"Hotch, they hadn't updated us, and her family had gone missing. That's a pretty big piece of the puzzle that no one filled us in on."

"Spencer, they are under no obligation to do anything for us, they said it merely as a courtesy," Hotch said, rubbing his forehead, before looking at the genius before him. "Look, I know that you are worried about her but there is nothing we can do."

"But there is, Hotch!" Spencer said. "Right now, Garcia is helping me find the person who was running surveillance on her, which could get us one step closer to finding her!"

"Spencer, that is not our jurisdiction," Hotch said, his voice calm and even, hiding the pity he felt for the heartbroken man in front of him.

"I fail to see how this is the CIA's jurisdiction," Spencer said. "She worked with the FBI Sex Crimes Unit, so technically, as far as I can tell, the FBI should be involved with this case as she is an asset to an ongoing case!"

Hotch let out a soft breath.

"Spencer, I understand how you feel… When Foyet had Haley and Jack, I didn't know what to do."

"But when they were in danger, you never stopped fighting for them," Spencer said, "so why should I?"

"I understand-" Hotch began, before Spencer interrupted him.

"No, you don't," he said, "because none of us tried to stop you when you were hunting him down. You-"

Then Garcia entered the room.

"Oh, sorry, but Spencer, your phone is off, and I, um, found something?" Garcia said, eyeing the unit chief cautiously.

The room was silent for a minute. The Hotch spoke.

"Show us."

The trio made their way to Garcia's computers.

"Okay, so I backtracked the person who I think was doing the photographic surveillance of Danielle. I had to go through tons of cameras until they got into a car, unmarked, of course, and then I just ran it through recognition software, until I found the car at an abandoned lot, where there is this really grainy, low-quality picture of the person we are looking for. Now keep in mind, it's running through facial recognition right now, but that'll take a little bit. But this is the person," Garcia said, pulling up the footage.

Spencer's heart dropped.

"You can stop the facial ID," he said.

"What? Why?" Garcia asked, her face filling with realization as she saw the look on Spencer's face. "Do you know who that is?"

"Yeah," Spencer said, his voice quieting and his forehead creasing as thousands of thoughts ran through his mind. "That's Caroline Mays. That's Sarah's best friend. We met for brunch one time…Why is she taking pictures?"

"Caroline Mays," Garcia mumbled, pulling up background on her. "Well, that's weird."

"What?" Hotch asked, breaking his silence.

"Caroline Mays is 32 years old, works as a freelance event marketer, but other than that, there is very little about her. Like, she would pass a background check, but there's not even a speeding ticket or anything on her," Garcia said.

"Maybe she's just a careful person?" Spencer offered.

"One second, let me try something," Garcia said, working madly at the keyboard. "Oh no, oh no, no, no."

"What?" Hotch asked.

"As far as I can tell," Garcia said, gulping, "Caroline Mays didn't exist until two years ago."

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

"I mean," Garcia said, looking at Spencer, "Caroline Mays isn't a real person and just popped into existence two years ago…" She turned back to her computer and gasped slightly, shocked at what she was reading. "And Danielle's handler tried to meet with Caroline today to debrief her, but she didn't show…She's missing."

"You don't think-" Hotch began, but Garcia interrupted him.

"That she's involved with this? Unfortunately, sir, I do," Garcia said, looking at Reid, who was unspeaking. "I do."

Meanwhile, outside the doors where Danielle had just screamed for her lost friend, Nicolas put his gun away.

"You didn't have to slap me so hard, you know?" the woman said, rubbing her cheek.

"You wanted me to sell it," Nicolas said. "Did that get you the information you needed?"

"Not all of it," the woman said, smiling, "but we can use her sister for that tomorrow. Let's allow her to rest, after all, she'll need it."

"Of course," Nicolas said. "Your contacts are ready to help us?"

"They all come running when Madeline comes calling," she said, turning to walk away. "Get someone to clean her up…I do hate it when my toys get all dirty."


	37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Everything that happened after Nicolas killed Caroline was a blur. Someone came into the room and brought me down from the chains, restrained my hands behind my back, and put a hood over my head. Eventually they walked me to a shower, where I was sprayed with cold water. The water stung the large cuts on my arms. The person helped me into a fresh pair of pants and a button-up shirt, for which someone aided them to ensure I couldn't get away. The hood covered my eyes so I couldn't even see their faces. I felt bandages be put on my arms.

Eventually, I was dragged back to the room and restrained in a chair. My muscles were grateful for the break from holding the weight of my body up by the chains. At some point I passed out, grateful for the numb darkness. But it didn't last long.

I was awakened by the sudden light that flooded the room. I grimaced; my eyes scrunched shut. As my eyelids fluttered open, I saw Nicolas. I began to thrash against my restraints.

"You son of a bitch, you killed her," I said, my voice hoarse and unable to yell.

"Unless you want Ashley to meet the same fate, you will calm down, now," he said. I glared at him, hatred filling every fiber of my being.

"What else do you want from me?" I asked, tired of this cat-and-mouse game.

"You are going to help us get safe passage out of the US," he said.

"Us?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Let me guess, Pavlov still doing your dirty work?"

"That's for me to know and you to never find out," he said.

"Let me speak to Ashley," I said.

"Why would I do that?" he asked.

"Because then I will do whatever you want, answer whatever questions you want, and won't fight you anymore," I said quietly. "I want to apologize to her. And then after I do what you want, you'll let her go? And leave them alone?"

Nicolas looked at me, and for a second, I swore his steely gaze flickered with something else. Pity? Remorse? Sympathy?

"Fine," he said after a moment, "but only for a few minutes."

"Thank you," I said, knowing that I had just signed my death warrant. He nodded and left the room. I watched him leave and then looked up to the ceiling.

I wasn't religious, never went to church or anything. I had never prayed in all the years that I had been involved in this mess. But for the first time in my life, I felt utter hopelessness. I felt myself wish for something or someone to help. But not me.

Help my family. I didn't deserve such mercy.

The door opened, and I saw Nicolas enter, my sister's arm tight in his grip. Her lip looked better, but she looked exhausted. Nicolas put her in the chair next to me, restraining her tightly.

"You have five minutes," he said, leaving the room. I was surprised that he was giving us privacy.

"Dani, what happened to you?" Ash asked, her eyes tracing the bandages covering my arms.

"Ash, we don't have a lot of time," I said, "so I need you to listen to me."

"Dani, you're scaring me… what's going on?" she asked. I let out a breath and looked at the ceiling.

"He's going to use me as leverage to get out of the states," I said. "They'll let you go once I do it, so you'll be safe soon."

"Thank God," she said, a soft laugh tumbling from her lips. Then confusion filled her face. "Wait, what about you?"

"I think we always knew that this was never going to end up well for me," I whispered, not meeting her gaze.

"Danielle, no, please tell me you didn't make another deal…"

"He killed my only friend from the past four years. Her name was Caroline and he killed her," I said, tears welling in my eyes. "I can't let them hurt you, Ash… you're all I have left."

"Danielle-"

"Just, when you get out, I need you to do me a favor, okay?"

"Danielle! Stop acting like you're going to die. You are going to get out of here, okay?"

"Just in case," I said, smiling softly, knowing that she knew deep down there was only one way that I'd be leaving this building, "I need you to find a Doctor Spencer Reid in the Behavioral Analyst Unit at the FBI."

"Who is he?" she asked.

"He is – was – my boyfriend, well, 'Sarah's' boyfriend," I said. "I just need you to tell him that I… I'm sorry."

"You had a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, it was kind of a new thing," I said. "You'd love him. He's geeky and nerdy and totally awkwardly cute."

"He sounds like a catch," she said.

"Yeah…"

"Do you love him?" she asked. I met her eyes, and I knew that this would be the only way that Spencer would ever know my true feelings.

"Yeah," I said, a tear falling from my face. "I do…"

"Dani, you are going to get out of here."

"Tell Charlie and Ben that I am so sorry I dragged you all into this," I said. "I ruined your lives and I know that you can never forgive me for that.

"God, stop being such a martyr," Ash said. "We knew what the risks were, and that's why we went into Witness Protection…"

"Still. I am so sorry, this never should have happened," I said. "None of this should have happened."

"Mom and Dad would be proud of you, you know that, right?" she said suddenly. "They always encouraged you to follow your gut."

"And look where that got us all," I said.

"You cannot blame yourself for that," she said. "Horrible people killed our parents."

"I know," I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.

Silence overcame us. Neither of us spoke. We both knew that it was our last moments together, as much as we tried to fight those feelings of loss.

The sound of the door opening caught my attention.

"Time's up," Nicolas said, heading our way.

"I love you Ash," I said, tears filling my eyes. "Tell Charlie and Ben I love them too."

"No, Danielle, no," Ash said as Nicolas ripped her up from the chair, dragging her out of the room.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as she disappeared from sight, screaming. Her screams faded, and a minute later, Nicolas reentered the room.

"Are you ready?" he asked, a camera in hand.

"What do I need to say?" I asked, resigned to my fate.


	38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRD PERSON POV

Nicolas walked out the room, camera in hand.

"You have it?" Madeline asked, leaning against the wall.

"She did everything we wanted with no fighting," he said handing it to her. "So how are we getting this to the feds?"

"Her sister," Madeline said. "Dump her at the hospital with tucked in her pants."

"Send Pavlov to do it?"

"Of course," Madeline said.

"What do we do with her now?" Nicolas asked.

"We are going to need her to ensure passage and once we are out, you can do whatever you want with her, as long as she's disposed of properly," Madeline said, waving her hand nonchalantly. "For now, you can go have your fun with her, talk about your feelings or whatever bullshit you need closure for to do your job."

"I'm not sure I follow-" Nicolas began, but Madeline cut him off.

"Do I look blind and stupid to you?" she asked. "I think you forget that I had and continue to have eyes everywhere… in fact, that's why we are still dealing with this mess."

"You know-"

"Yes, I know about your little love affair, but it does seem that she played you like a game of chess," she said, laughing lightly.

"It was a mistake," Nicolas said hurriedly.

"I don't care," Madeline said, "as long as it doesn't affect our work now. Now, I will take this to Pavlov to make sure Ashley is taken to the hospital with this in tow." Madeline walked out the room, positive of her victory.

Nicolas glanced back at the room where Danielle was, remembering their time together, even if she had been undercover.

_"Nic!" Danielle yelled._

_ "What love?" Nicolas asked, closing his laptop in his study as Danielle pushed open the door._

_ "Look, I made a pie! And I didn't burn it!" she said, gleefully showing him the apple pie that was crispy, but not burnt._

_ "It looks amazing," he said, "but how does it taste?"_

_ "Don't you dare insult my cooking skills," Danielle said. "Besides, we have to wait for it to cool to taste it."_

_ "How long will that take?" Nicolas asked._

_ "A few hours," Danielle said, exiting the study to take the pie back to the kitchen to cool. Nicolas all too eagerly followed her, wrapping his arms around her._

_ "I have an idea on how we can kill the time?" he said, brushing her long, brown hair away and kissing her neck._

_ "Oh, do you?" Danielle said, turning around to face him. "And what would that idea be?"_

_ "I think you know," he murmured, lifting her up on the counter and kissing her. Soon enough, they found themselves in Nicolas' bed, the pie all but forgotten between their breathless 'I love you's' and their soft laughter._

Shaking himself from that memory, he reminded himself that it wasn't real. That wasn't the woman in that room. That was a lie. This was the truth.

Seeing her hurting still stung him at his core, but she betrayed his trust and landed him in prison. She deserved this.

He opened the door to see her head hung as she sat in the chair. Even from her posture, he could see that she had given up all hope. Looking at her arms, he felt disgust rise in him. _He_ did that to her.

"What do you want?" Danielle asked, her voice hoarse and quiet.

"To talk," Nicolas said.

"About what?" she asked, looking to meet his eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot. "We talk and talk and I never learn anything! Just get it over with and kill me."

Nicolas didn't respond at first, pulling the chair next to her so that he could sit in front of her.

"Was it all a lie?" he asked.

"Was what all a lie?" she asked.

"Us."

Danielle was clearly shocked.

"Nicolas, why are we talking about this, I don't understand why-"

"Was it a lie?" he asked more forcefully this time.

Danielle didn't speak. Neither of them could read the other.

"No," she said quietly. "It's wasn't all a lie… but it ended the minute I found those documents."

"You knew what I was."

"You made me think… that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong… That I had the wrong guy, but then I found those papers and contracts and I couldn't lie to myself," Danielle said. "And then you ordered a hit on my parents."

"I had to," he said. "I had to keep you quiet."

"Look how well that turned out for you," Danielle said bitterly.

Silence enveloped the room. Danielle didn't know what to think, while Nicolas had thousands of thoughts running through his mind.

"Did you ever love me?" Nicolas said.

"Nicolas…"

"You owe me that," he said. "After all the lies, the betrayal, and the deceit… you owe me that."

"I don't owe you a damn thing," Danielle said. "You killed my parents, you kidnapped my sister and her family, and you murdered my friend."

"Please," Nicolas said. Danielle met his eyes, and she couldn't lie to him.

"Yeah," she said, "there was a time that I loved you… but that time is over now."

"I know," he said.

"You promise that you won't hurt my family?" Danielle asked. Nicolas paused, remembering the last promise he made to her before he was imprisoned.

_"Nic," Danielle asked as they walked along the shoreline one morning,_

_ "Yes love," Nicolas said, holding her hand, their feet in the water as they walked._

_ "Can you promise me something?"_

_ "Of course, what?" Nicolas said, his face concerned._

_ "Promise me," Danielle said, stopping to look at him, "that you'll never forget me and this?"_

_ "I could never forget you," Nicolas said._

_ "You never break a promise," she said, smiling, "so promise me?"_

_ "I promise," he said. She smiled and gave him a soft kiss as they continued on their walk._

He may have been a man of many faults, but Nicolas was right about one thing.

He never broke a promise.

"I promise," he said, exiting the room. "Goodbye love."


	39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRD PERSON POV

Days passed after Spencer, Garcia, and Hotch had discovered the truth about Caroline Mays. And now Hotch was seated in front of Daniel, and a female CIA operative overseeing the case.

"You think that Caroline Mays is somehow involved with this?" the skinny woman asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Agent Wright," Hotch said, "We have one of the best technical analysts who confirmed that this 'Caroline Mays' didn't exist until two years ago. Other than a small apartment, that I can assure you was just for show, there is no records of her… She was getting transactions from an offshore bank account every month. Given her recent disappearance, I believe it is safe to say that she is very much involved with this." Hotch handed the woman the file, filled with images of Caroline Mays. "Right now, my team is running her face through VICAP and INTERPOL, but we haven't gotten any hits yet."

Agent Wright looked at Hotch before sighing. She flipped through the file; her mind filled with thoughts that only grew more urgent the more she saw.

"No information is free," she said, shutting the folder. "Am I correct in assuming that your team wants to help with this investigation?"

"We believe that we have assets that will be able to aid the investigation and find Danielle and her sister."

"I believe there is a small conflict of interest, however?" Agent Wright said. "You all know Danielle, and Dr. Reid is – or was – in a romantic relationship with her."

"My team, with the exception of Dr. Reid, didn't know her well. I will pull Dr. Reid from the field, and he will only be working with our analyst," Hotch said, knowing that Spencer would fight him on that.

"I'm not sure about this," Agent Wright said.

"Just give them the files," Daniel said. At Agent Wright's look he elaborated. "This has gone on long enough. We have had years to prevent this. What's a little more help?"

"Agent Ortega," Agent Wright said, reprimanding the man next to her, "you know that this case is highly sensitive and highly classified."

"Respectfully," Daniel said, frustrated, "I don't believe the CIA has ever had Danielle's best interest at hand."

"Agent Ortega, you forget your place," Agent Wright said.

"So, you're going to deny it?"

"Deny what?" Hotch asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. Both of the other agents' eyes fell to him.

"Agent Ortega, please leave and close the door." Daniel did as Agent Wright said. The woman sighed and looked at Hotch.

"Agent Hotchner, what I am about to disclose is highly classified," she said. "When Nicolas Smirnov escaped from prison, the CIA chose to let him get a head start. There is evidence that indicated that Nicolas was merely the front for the cartel. This cartel has ties to multiple terrorist organizations. We have no idea on the identity of this individual, so we believed by letting him get ahead, we would find this mystery person."

"But that obviously didn't work out as you thought," Hotch said.

"We misjudged how desperate Nicolas was to get back at Danielle, however, we do believe that he has made contact with his boss…"

"Have you identified the boss?"

"No, unfortunately, we underestimated their abilities."

"So, now Danielle is in the hands of these people," Hotch said. "And you have no idea how to find them?"

"Yes," Agent Wright said, "and that is why I am going to let your team assist."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hotch said, getting up from his seat. "I do have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why is Nicolas so desperate to get back at Danielle? I know she was imperative to busting him, but most criminals try to flee to countries without an extradition treaty once they escape."

"That is, perhaps, the most confidential part of this, so much so, that it will not be in the files we send over, because as far as the world is concerned, it never happened," Agent Wright said, standing to meet Hotch's eyes. "We sent Danielle in on a deep cover to find out more about him."

"She got in the ring?" Hotch said, his tone concerned.

"No," Agent Wright said, "we knew from her initial investigation that he had tried to get her into the trafficking ring, but she proved herself too intelligent to fall for his tricks… from our investigation into his life, we knew that he was… intrigued by her, to say the least. So, she went undercover for us as his… significant other."

Hotch felt his gut tighten.

"You sent a civilian to investigate and seduce a criminal with ties to a terrorist organization?"

"It was a decision made much higher up that either of us, Agent Hotchner," Agent Wright said. "But yes."

"How long was she under cover for?" Hotch said, the pieces of the puzzle finally lining up.

"A year and a half," Agent Wright said. "She pulled out once she got the documents maintaining that he has involved in far more than just human trafficking."

"So, he took her for what? Revenge? Closure?" Hotch asked.

"We believe that it may be a combination of revenge and a need for safe passage out of the US," Agent Wright said.

"How do you figure that out?"

"Her sister was found this morning," Agent Wright said. "She was found outside of the same hospital where her son and husband were. There was a tape tucked into her pants, and it has video of Danielle listing the demands of Nicolas, and whoever else in involved with this. She is still unconscious, so we can't question her yet."

"We'll need to see that tape," Hotch said, "we can look for any body language that might help us."

"Of course," Agent Wright said, opening the door. "I'll have it sent over to you at Quantico within the hour."

"Thank you," Hotch said, shaking the woman's hand. "We will keep you updated, and you will do the same?"

"Yes," Agent Wright said. "But I do have two conditions for all of this. One being that it must be kept confidential between these two departments. And the second is that Dr. Reid is not allowed to involved on any field work. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Hotch said, knowing that Spencer would likely try to, no matter what Hotch said.

When Hotch arrived back at Quantico, he was met by Rossi.

"I heard that we are working on a case in tandem with the CIA?" Rossi asked.

"Gather up the team in the room."

"They're already there," Rossi said. Hotch looked up, and sure enough the whole team was waiting for him.

They entered the room, silence filling it.

"We are assisting the CIA on an investigation into what happened to Danielle Hansen, or Sarah Bennett. You all know basic information, however, we recently gained access to confidential files which are now on your tablets."

Stillness filled the room, every member of the team reading over the files. Hotch's eyes found their way to Spencer, who was stoic.

"We also recently gained access to a tape that was found with Danielle's sister, Ashley, outside of a hospital in Detroit. Garcia?" Hotch asked, sitting down as Garcia pulled up a video. As she pressed play, Danielle's figure appeared on the screen. She was restrained to a chair, wearing a simple button down and pants. There were large bandages on either arm, the red tint showing that she had clearly been hurt.

"Go," commanded a gruff voice.

"My name is Danielle Hansen," the woman said, her voice unshaking. Her face looked up and met the camera head-on. "I was in Witness Protection as Sarah Bennett. I am being held… accountable… for my betrayal and lies." Her voice wavered as she said 'accountable.'

"They're feeding her the words," Alex said quietly. No one spoke, their eyes analyzing the screen.

"I am a federal witness and an asset to the CIA," Danielle said, "so my captors know my worth. They demand safe voyage out of the United States of America to Morocco. They will set up a direct line of communication. I will accompany them to Morocco. Once they are safe, I will be released to the custody of Spain, where I can then be brought back to the United States. If these demands are not met, I will be killed. A line of communication will be set up by calling the number below." A number appeared on the screen, and Spencer immediately memorized it.

The screen turned black.

"Like Blake said," Morgan said, "she is clearly being fed those words."

"Has anyone called the line?" JJ asked.

"The CIA wants to set up a shared line with our office," Hotch said. "Garcia, if you can-"

"On it sir," Garcia said, rushing out of the room.

"How do we know they aren't bluffing? How do we know they don't kill her the minute they land?" Morgan asked.

"We don't," Hotch said, his eyes flickering over to the young genius who was unusually quiet.

"They're smart," Rossi mused. "They know that the United States doesn't have an extradition treaty with the United States."

"I don't understand," JJ said. "She said that she was an asset to the CIA… What did she do? She's a civilian, right?"

"I spoke to the CIA agent assigned to Danielle's case," Hotch said. "She informed me that the CIA became involved once it was discovered Nicolas' cartel was aiding terrorists in the Middle East. What your files don't say is how they found proof of that. They sent Danielle in on a deep cover to find out more about him… she investigated him through the use of a romantic relationship."

"How long was she undercover?" Rossi asked.

"A year and half," Hotch said, his eyes flickering over to Reid, who had paled.

"The CIA sent a citizen in to seduce a criminal who had ties to terrorists?" JJ asked.

"She got out once she found the documents proving it, but the CIA suspects that this is a combination of revenge and closure for Nicolas."

"Well, what about this boss that the reports detail?" Blake asked, gesturing to her tablet.

"They don't have any leads on that," Hotch asked.

"How does Caroline fit into this?" Reid said, breaking his silence.

"The CIA isn't sure, but they are investigating it now," Hotch said.

"So what are we going to do?" Morgan asked.

"We are going to go over this video, frame by frame, and see if we can find anything to help the investigation," Hotch said. "Blake and Morgan? Can you handle that while JJ and Rossi do to Danielle's apartment and see if they can find anything?"

Both teams agreed.

"What can I do?" Spencer asked.

"One of the terms of getting access to the investigation was assurance that you would be working with Garcia – no field work," Hotch said. He was expecting a fight, but no such fight came. Reid merely nodded and turned to leave, but was stopped by Garcia.

"Reid," she said. "Danielle's sister Ashley is on the phone. She said she needs to talk to you."

Reid rushed over, wordlessly to the corded phone, picking up the call.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Is this Spencer Reid? With the BAU or something?" came the voice.

"Yes, this is Ashely?"

"Yeah, I'm Danielle's sister. Look, I don't have a ton of time before my doctor comes back to check on me again, but Dani said that I should find you?"

"You saw her?"

"Yeah, and then I was taken out back and injected with something that made me pass out… Look, I don't know how I got here, but she told me to tell you that she's sorry?"

"She's sorry?"

"Yeah, and I don't really understand what is going on here, but you need to find her, okay? They are going to use her as leverage and then they will kill her. You need to find her," the woman said, her voice speeding up.

"We are doing everything we can," Spencer said. "Is there anything else you remember?"

"Crap, the doctor is almost back, but yeah, um… she loves you, so you have to find her, okay? I want to meet the guy who stole her heart, but you need to find her."

Spencer froze, his voice caught in his throat.

She loves him.

Not loved.

Loves.

"I'll do everything I can," Spencer said.

"Ok, I got to go, but I will call if I remember anything that could help."

The phone line clicked and Spencer sat at his desk wordlessly.

She loves him.

He had to find her.

Forget what Hotch said.

It would take a miracle to keep him out of the field.


	40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

THIRD PERSON POV

"Sir," Garcia said, pulling Hotch from his paper work. "We have the shared line set up and are ready to call the number."

"Good," he said, "you set it up in the conference room?"

"Yes sir."

"Get the ream in there. Morgan will answer the phone and start negotiations."

"Sure, but, sir, is it a good idea to have Reid in there too? I mean, I just worry-"

"You and Reid are going to be working on tracing and a geographical profile while the rest of us deal with the call," Hotch said interrupting her. "You both can head to your office now."

"Of course, sir," Garcia said, rushing to her office with Reid in tow.

As Hotch made his way to the room, he could feel Reid's eyes burning into his back.

"Alright, we are all set up," Hotch said. "Morgan, you are taking lead on this."

"Got it," he said, dialing the number, putting the call on speaker.

It rang for a few moments before it picked up.

"Hello?" asked the voice on the line.

"This is Agent Derek Morgan with the FBI. Who am I speaking to?" Morgan said, his voice even and calm.

"I think you know who," the voice on the other line said.

"Nicolas, right?" Morgan asked.

"Good to know that I am not dealing with total amateurs," Nicolas said.

"What can I do for you?" Morgan asked.

"I need safe passage from the US to Morocco."

"Or else you'll kill Danielle Hansen?"

"You are correct."

"Well, Nicolas, I need proof of life in order to try to get anything for you," Derek said.

"You called the number; you saw the video. Proof of life," Nicolas said pointedly.

"But there was no way to tell when that video was taken and for all I know, you killed her after the video was shot."

There was silence on the other line before Nicolas responded.

"Fine."

Another pause, but it sounded as if a door had opened.

"Say hello," Nicolas said, his voice distant.

"Hi?" said a female voice. Morgan met Hotch who nodded.

It was Danielle.

"Danielle, this is Derek Morgan with the FBI… How are you doing?"

"I've been better," Danielle said, a light laugh coming through the speaker. "Would kill for a glass of wine right about now, though."

"Have they hurt you?"

"A little banged up, but nothing I can't manage," she said. "Is my family safe?"

"They are fine, all were treated for minor injuries," Morgan said.

"He killed Caroline," Danielle said, her voice quivering slightly. "I couldn't let him kill them too."

Morgan glanced at the team. Confusion filled their faces as they each thought almost the exact same thought. Caroline was dead? That didn't make sense.

"All right," Nicolas said, his voice loud on the line. "I believe that is enough proof of life. How are you going to help me, Agent Morgan?"

"You know that these things take time," Morgan said.

"How much time?" Nicolas asked.

"A few days, at the very least," Morgan said. "Even then, we have to have assurance that you won't kill Danielle the second you touch down in Morocco."

"When we have our safe travels, we will discuss. Do not call again unless you have answers for me," Nicolas said, the line clicking.

"Do we think Garcia got anything from the call?" Rossi asked.

"These guys are professionals," Hotch said. "It's unlikely."

"He killed Caroline?" Blake said. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I agree with Blake," JJ said. "Why would Nicolas go to all this trouble to have someone essentially spying on Danielle for two years, only to kill her."

"Cover his tracks?" Morgan said.

"But why not utilize her friend's betrayal to her? That would hurt her in a way that he could prey on," Alex said. "Expose Caroline's lies and then kill her."

"The way Danielle spoke… she sounded genuinely heartbroken by the loss of her friend. There's no way she knew that Caroline was working for Nicolas," JJ said.

"What if… Caroline isn't dead?" Rossi said. The team gave him looks but he held up a hand and continued. "Hear me out, what if Danielle just _thought_ Caroline was dead?"

"But what does he gain from that?" Morgan asked.

"She loses someone she cares for and was innocent because of her lies to him," JJ said. "It would make her more likely to be compliant. I mean, she said that she couldn't let her family be killed too."

"But then why not kill Caroline?" Blake asked.

"Have we gotten any hits from INTERPOL or VICAP about Caroline's real identity?" Morgan asked Hotch.

"No, why?"

"What if the reason Nicolas hasn't killed Caroline is because he isn't the one calling the shots?" Morgan asked.

"Well, we know he has a boss, but there is no way to find out who that is," JJ said. "The CIA had no leads."

"I know this might sound far-fetched," Rossi said, "But what if Caroline is the boss?"

The room fell silent, every member of the team running over the scenario in their minds.

"It's certainly possible," Blake said.

"Sir," Garcia said, "We couldn't trace the call. They're rerouting it through thousands of servers, and I'm fast, but this has clearly been years in the making, and I can only do so-"

"It's fine Garcia," Hotch said. "How's Reid?"

"He's upset, sir. He wants to be involved, and I understand why," Garcia said.

"Is he in your office?"

"Um, no," Garcia said, visibly uncomfortable.

"Where is he?" Hotch said, suspicious.

"Danielle's sister called earlier, and I think he's trying to call her outside of the building right now."

"Garcia, you know that he isn't to be involved on the case other than with you," Hotch said, eyes narrowing at Reid, who just walked in the front.

"I know sir, but-" Garcia began, but Hotch exited the room.

"My office. Now," he said to Reid, who nodded and made his way to Hotch's office. Hotch closed the door behind him.

"Reid, when I say you are not to be involved in field work, that includes contacting witnesses and family."

"Hotch, I-"

"I understand that you are upset, but you are not to disobey direct orders again, understood?"

"Hotch, I-"

"Understood?" Hotch said.

"Understood."

"Now, what did you find out?"

"Ashley didn't see Danielle much. Only two times. The first time, she was able to help convince Nicolas to let her son and husband free. The second time, Danielle talked to her before she was knocked out and taken to the hospital. She said that Danielle mentioned me, but also mentioned her friend being killed."

"We knew most of this," Hotch said.

"But Ashley was conscious most of the time between her first meeting with Danielle and the second. She saw multiple people, including one whose description matched that matched Caroline."

"Caroline was kidnapped too," Hotch said, not revealing the team's suspicion to Reid.

"She saw her after the second time she saw Danielle."

"So, after Danielle told her Caroline was dead, she saw someone who looked similar to Caroline?"

"Yes, and I called our field office in Detroit. They're setting her up with a sketch artist as we speak."

"Good job Reid," Hotch said, "but you do anything like this again, we will have to put you on leave until this case is finished."

"I understand sir," Reid said, lying through his teeth.

Meanwhile, where Danielle was being held, Nicolas handed the phone to Madeline.

"They said they'll call back in a few days."

"And they have no clue about me, right?" Madeline asked.

"Not that they hinted at."

"Perfect," Madeline said, "I do love a big, grand, surprise finale finish, don't you?"


	41. CHAPTER FORTY

The next few days progressed slowly, with Nicolas bringing me food every now and then. We never spoke when he came into the room. I didn't know what was happening outside of the walls of this room. From what I had gathered, he was waiting for confirmation of safe travels to Morocco, where I would die.

I could only hope that he would have the decency to leave my body somewhere that my family could arrange for a burial. I hated the idea of death and dying but it was a reality of my life now. I was going to die, and from the hatred that Nicolas had shown, it wouldn't be a quick one.

At least Caroline's death had been quick. It wasn't fair what had happened to her. It was my fault; I never should have gotten close to her. I put her in danger.

The door opened, revealing Nicolas carrying in a plate with a sandwich and banana. We didn't speak as he removed the restraints on one of my arms, allowing me to feed myself.

True to my word, I didn't fight anymore.

There was nothing left to fight for.

I slowly ate the food, not feeling full. I handed the plate back to Nicolas, my stomach aching.

At least it was something to feel.

He turned to leave, but I interrupted him.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'I am sorry.'"

"For what?"

"For using you… I really did feel bad afterwards, but I won't apologize for busting you for what you were doing to those girls," I said, meeting his eyes. "But I truly am sorry for manipulating you."

"Apologies won't save you," he said.

"I know," I said. "But if I'm going to die, I want to do it with a clear conscience."

"Didn't think you were religious," he said, not leaving the room.

"I'm not," I said, "but I don't want, in my last moments, to be thinking about all the wrong I've done."

Nicolas nodded to show that he understood, turning to leave, yet again.

"Wait," I said, grabbing his attention. "I'm going crazy here… can you just stay for a few minutes?"

"Why?"

"I've been restrained to this chair for days and I've had no human contact or conversation," I said, letting out a soft laugh in spite of the circumstances. "I don't want to lose my mind, you know?"

"You did always like to be in control," Nicolas mused, and I swore that I saw a flicker of a smile on his face. "Fine, I'll stay for a few moments."

"Thanks," I said.

Silence enveloped the room.

"You look good," Nicolas said, finally breaking the silence. I laughed at his attempt of small talk.

"I'm sure I do," I said, "What, with bandages on my arms, tattered clothing, and restrained to a chair… I forgot that you suck at small talk."

"Some things never change," he said.

"What did you do with Caroline's…" I said, trailing off, unable to bring myself to say 'body.'

"Why do you want to know?"

"I never met her parents," I said, "but I think they'd like to give their daughter a proper burial."

"We took care of it."

"Good," I said. "Thanks."

"I'm not a complete monster," he said. "I've done some awful things, but I do have some sense of a moral compass."

"It just stops at human trafficking and starts at giving a family their child's body?" I asked, the bitterness I felt towards the situation seeping through every word. "Some moral compass."

I was met with a smack to the face.

"Oh, yeah, just hit me? That solves all your problems, doesn't it, Nic?" I asked, ignoring the pain where his hand had just hit my face.

Smack.

A thought came into my mind. If I was dead before they could get to Morocco, they couldn't use me and would likely be caught.

It wouldn't be the best way to go, but at least I would stop sitting and waiting for my eventual death.

"What, Nic? Mommy didn't hug you enough when you were little? Oh, that's right, she didn't? Because Daddy had too much to drink one night, slapped her around a little more than he usually did?" I taunted him, feeling guilty for bringing that part of his past up.

"Shut up," he growled, smacking me again.

"And then Daddy turned to you, right? Is that what this is about Nic? You hate women because Mommy wasn't strong enough to protect you?" I said.

"Shut up," he said again, quieter.

"Or was it because you couldn't protect your mom? So, you figured, hey, let's just put some into sexual slavery and maybe another kid won't go through what you went through, right?"

"Shut up!" he screamed, lunging and throwing the chair I was seated in, to the ground. I heard a leg of the chair splinter in half as I grunted in pain. I looked up at him, knowing he was almost there.

"Or what Nic? You'll beat me? Beat me like your dad beat your mom? Guess it's true, sons really do become their fathers," I said.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screamed, kicking me sharply in the gut. I gasped in pain. Another kick came.

Then another.

And another.

A second later, I was ripped from the chair and thrown to the ground, my restraints broken.

"Real nice, Nic," I said, struggling to my feet, my legs shaking slightly. "And here I was, thinking you thought I looked _good_… but then again, maybe bloodied, bruised girls are more your style?"

With a grunt, Nic grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I gasped, black spots blotting my vision. He had my hands back in those damn chains. His presence left mine and then I was lifted into the air.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, trying to calm himself down as he appeared once again in my vision.

"Really?" I asked. "As I recall, you said, what, that you had never opened up to someone you loved this much before, isn't that what you said?"

Punch to the gut.

"Come on, you've got more than that," I said, grunting at the pain.

Slap to the face.

"At least you keep it the same as your dad," I said, "Multiple blows to the head, that's what killed her right?"

His hands were on my throat.

"You bitch," he growled, squeezing.

Tighter.

And tighter.

Gasping for air, I searched for what would make him snap and not stop till it was too late.

"I lied," I choked out. "I _never_ loved you."

The squeezing stopped for a second.

And then I couldn't breath.

The room began to grow dark.

Unable to hold my eyes open anymore, they closed.

I was almost gone.

Almost free.

"What the fuck are you doing?" came a voice from behind me. The squeezing stopped. "Are you stupid? If she's dead, there's no way we are getting out of here."

"I…I-"

"Shut it and go get Pavlov. If she's dead, it's your head on the line," the voice said. I was almost unconscious, but it was a woman's voice.

As I drifted into unconsciousness, I struggled to open my eyes one last time. I saw a blurry figure in front of me. Squinting my eyes, I came to the conclusion that I was about to die.

Because the woman I saw?

It was Caroline.

And then the world went dark.


	42. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THIRD PERSON POV

The BAU was in the middle of trying to figure out what they were going to do to trick Nicolas and, possibly, Caroline, if she was truly involved. They were in the middle of talking when Agent Wright appeared at the door.

"Agent Hotchner, can we have the room?" the stern woman asked. Hotch nodded and his team cleared the room, Rossi shutting the door tightly.

"Ma'am?"

"The CIA has made its decision in how we will be proceeding with this… incident," the woman said, sitting at the table. Hotch sat with her.

"And what would this decision be?"

"We are going to give them what they ask for," Agent Wright said, "as long as they give us locations to two terrorist cells that we have been tracking for the past couple years."

"Respectfully," Hotch said, "I would advise against that… Giving into these demands will likely give you the locations of these terrorist cells, but they will not hesitate to kill Danielle."

Agent Wright said nothing, swallowed, and began to fiddle her fingers ever so-slightly.

"Unless you never intended on getting her back alive," Hotch said, realization flooding his eyes. "You were trying to figure out what you really wanted from them."

"Agent Hotchner-" Agent Wright began, but Hotch cut her off.

"I thought that she was a valuable witness to you?"

"She is, and the hope is that she will be freed," Agent Wright said, "however, the CIA wants to ensure that we will be getting something viable from the loss of multiple criminals. I wish I had better news for you, Agent Hotchner, but heads of the FBI, CIA, and US Marshals have already signed off on it. We just need to have your head negotiator for this case call the number to set it up."

"This is wrong," Hotch said, his eyes flickering out the window to where his team was waiting.

"It's what we have to do," she said. "I wish there was another way, but I think we both knew the chances of Danielle getting out of this alive were never high to begin with."

Hotch knew in his mind that there was no way to change the woman's mind on the matter.

"Just, let me get Dr. Reid out of the room," he said. Agent Wright merely nodded as Hotch left the room.

"Reid. Garcia," Hotch barked.

"Sir?" Garcia asked.

"We are going to call again, so I need you back on tracking the call," Hotch said, giving Garcia a look. She swallowed, knowing that the point of this wasn't to find Nicolas, but to get Reid away from whatever was about to go down.

"On it sir," Garcia said, grabbing Reid and dragging him with her. Once they were out of earshot, Hotch called the team together.

"We are contacting them again. Agent Wright," he said, nodding his head towards the woman, "will brief you on what we want to get through to them." Morgan nodded as Agent Wright approached, explaining what was going on, omitting the suspicion that Danielle wouldn't survive.

"Try to see if you can get the boss on the line," Agent Wright finally said, a move that shocked Hotch. "If we can get audio on them, we can confirm whether this Caroline person is involved."

"Okay, I got it," Morgan said, dialing the number, putting the call on speaker.

It rung for a few moments, before it picked up.

"Hello?" Nicolas asked.

"This is Agent Morgan with the FBI."

"Do you have safe passage for us?" Nicolas asked.

"Yes, but in order to give you that, we need a few more things from you," Morgan said.

"Like what?"

"We are going to need the locations of two terrorist cells that the CIA has been tracking for the past few years, a group called Irradat Allah and another one called Almawt Lilkifaar."

There was a pause before Nicolas responded.

"We can do that."

"We?" Morgan asked, seeing a way to get someone else on the line. "Is that your boss with you there?"

"Boss?" Nicolas asked, laughing, "I am in charge, I assure you."

"See, I don't think so," Morgan said. "I think that you are the figure head, but that someone else is calling the shots."

"You can think whatever you want," Nicolas said, "but that doesn't change the truth."

"Fine. We are also going to need the body of Caroline Mays," Morgan said, ignoring Agent Wright's clear signal to not mention the woman.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Nicolas said.

"Why? Is it because there's not a body to give to us?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Is Caroline Mays working with you?" Morgan asked. There was a pregnant pause before a new voice came on the phone.

"Hello," a sweet voice said.

"Who am I speaking to?"

"This is Caroline," the woman said, "or, at least, that's how you know me."

"What is your name?"

"You can call me Madeline," she said.

"Are you calling the shots?"

"Am I in charge of this whole operation?" she drawled. "Yes, of course, I did have a rather grand way of showing that off, but I suppose a dramatic phone call is just as good."

"Well, Madeline," Derek said, "we need locations."

"I'll get them to you when you get the transportation to me."

"We do need one last thing," Morgan said. "We need proof of life."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment," Madeline said.

"Why is that?"

"I'm afraid that our lovely Dani is, how should I say this, a little beat down from the whole ordeal," Madeline said, the whole team picking up on her tone.

"Well, then, I'm afraid that I can't get transportation to you," Morgan said.

"Fine, just give me a moment," she said. There was the familiar sound of a door opening. Then a sharp smack.

"Say hello," Madeline said, her voice dark and deep/

"What?" came a slurred voice. Danielle.

"Danielle, this is Agent Morgan. How are you?"

"I… I can't-" Danielle murmured out, unable to open her eyes, both from exhaustion and her left eye being swollen. "I wish could say I am well."

"We are working on getting you out, okay?"

"Don't give them what they want… they're going to-" Danielle spit out before another sharp sound emitted from the phone's speaker.

"Proof of life. I'll send locations of the two groups and directions on how to get the transportation to me. You have until 7pm tomorrow," Madeline hissed into the line, the call ending abruptly.

The room was silent until a voice from behind me.

"She's going to die, isn't she?" Spencer said, his face stoic, but his eyes welling with tears.

No one spoke.

No one wanted to lie to him.


	43. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

A stinging pain across my face awoke me.

"Say hello," a voice said. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't Nicolas.

"What?" I asked, my voice quiet and slow.

"Danielle, this is Agent Morgan. How are you?"

"I… I can't-" I murmured, trying to open my eyes, but my eyelids were just too heavy. "I wish could say I am well."

"We are working on getting you out, okay?" Derek said, and I swallowed. If they were cooperating with Nicolas, they would gain nothing.

"Don't give them what they want… they're going to-" I said, struggling to get as many words out as I could. A sharp smack that sent my face to the left stopped me from talking.

"Proof of life. I'll send locations of the two groups and directions on how to get the transportation to me. You have until 7pm tomorrow," the voice said. I heard a click of the phone closing. "How the mighty have fallen…"

I managed to open my eyes, my right eye's sight better than my left. The room was dim, but I managed to make out a figure, a woman who was standing in front of me, her hands on her hips.

"Caroline?" I asked, recognizing the woman before me. "What's going on? I thought you were-"

"Dead?" she asked, laughing. "Unfortunately for you, no, I am alive and well."

"I don't understand," I said, my mind buzzing. "Why are you here?"

"Come on," she said, "You were smart enough to figure out the whole thing in Texas, so why don't you use that little brain to figure out this?"

"Figure out what?" I asked. "Caroline, what is going on?"

"First of all," she said rolling her eyes, "Don't call me Caroline. It's Madeline. Secondly, do your investigative journalism work, right?"

I met her eyes, and I for the first time couldn't read her.

Slowly, my brain began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. We met at a yoga class. Despite my best attempts to avoid conversation and companionship, she chased after me, trying to get me to go out more. She took me out to the bar where the guy who ultimately brought me first approached me. She was there when that incident with my door happened.

"Are you involved with this?" I asked. "If they have something on you, I'm sure that I can-"

"How stupid are you?" she said, interrupting me. "Why would I be on the phone with your friends at the FBI if I was just a pawn?"

I faltered for a moment.

"You're not…" I said, "in charge?"

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner, ladies and gentlemen," she said, smiling wickedly. "I'm just glad you finally figured it out… even if I did have to give you so many hints."

"I don't understand," I whispered, meeting her gaze again. "Why… How?"

"Why?" she said, "Money. Everything in life is an economic proposition, and I just figured out how to make it work for me."

"You're saying that you are Nicolas' boss?" I clarified, it still not hitting me.

"Yes, keep up," she said.

I was in shock.

"I trusted you…" I said, disbelief still racking my body.

"No," she said. "_Sarah_ trusted me…but let's be honest… she was always such a drag. But _Danielle_? Now, that is a story I can get behind."

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me how you busted the operation," she said, sitting down in a chair opposite from me.

"And why would I tell you that?" I said bitterly.

"Because," she said, "then I'll let you say goodbye. To everyone."

My head shot up in shock. I hadn't thought about that. She knew that I hated getting other people involved.

"Fine," I said, praying that this wasn't some elaborate trick. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning."

"I guess that would be when my dad mentioned something about missing college-aged girls when I went home for Christmas. I looked into it and noticed that there were two central locations – San Antonio and Corpus Christi. I didn't think much of it, but after I talked to my supervisor and got her permission to go investigate it, I took a chance. I interview people in both areas and found that in both cities there was a pattern of-"

"Believe it or not, that's not what I meant," Madeline said. "I want you to talk about how you busted the _bigger _operation.

I swallowed. Of course, she wanted me to.

"I met Nicolas at a bar one night and I didn't go with him, but I connected him to the Cartel del Golfo. I eventually had enough to get the help of the FBI Sex Crimes Division, but that was when the CIA came in, and brought suspicions of something larger at play. The two groups worked together, where it was decided that the best chance to find anyone was to send someone in who Nicolas had seen before… the CIA figured out that he had a type that I seemed to fit. So I started hanging out at bars, shops, and just anywhere where he was known to be, until I saw him and approached him," I said, hating talking about this part of my life.

"And that's when you started a relationship with him?"

"Yeah," I said. "It went on for a year and half, and the whole time I was gaining his trust and trying to find evidence. It took a while, but the break came when he left for "work" in a rush one morning, and forgot to lock his office. I went in…and I found contracts and documents and letters that proved there was something larger at play, mostly related to terrorist activity in the Middle East and human trafficking across the globe."

"Forgetfulness caused this?" she asked, a frown on her face.

"No," I said. "Illegal activities did."

"Besides the point," she said, waving her hand. "Now, I know what we did wrong this time."

"This time?"

"Of course," she said, tilting her head before letting out a laugh. "Oh, no… you didn't think that your sacrifice would mean anything, did you? I'll just relocated my base and the whole operation will start up again… your death will mean nothing."

"How can you look at yourself in the mirror?" I asked. "Do you have no pity?"

"Oh, sure I do," she said, her sickly-sweet smile a contradiction to the words that fell from her lips. "I just stopped caring a long time ago…" With that she turned to leave, but I yelled after her.

"Wait, you said I would get to say goodbye!"

"Oh, sweet, naïve, Dani," she said, laughing from the doorway. "I'm not Nicolas… I don't keep promises."

Then the door shut.

And the tears fell.


	44. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

THIRD PERSON POV

Agent Wright stood in front of Hotch's desk. She was rubbing her forehead, clearly agitated.

"So, your analyst got an encrypted file sent from a library," she said, clarifying the situation, "that gives the location of one of the terrorist organizations, with a note explaining we will get the other one once they get into Morocco, as well as instructions on how to get Madeline and Nicolas out of the country?"

"Yes," Hotch said shortly.

"And you are refusing to send transportation to them?"

"Yes."

"Agent Hotchner, I understand that you may not agree with our orders," Agent Wright said. "I don't agree with them either, but that does not mean we can disobey direct orders."

"I will not be signing the orders that effectively kills an American citizen," Hotch said.

"This is not in your control," Agent Wright said. "The orders have been signed by someone higher than you. I'm here as a courtesy. The plane is already getting ready to go."

Hotch stared at the woman for a moment. He could see that she genuinely didn't want to do what they had been ordered to do.

"Do we have people there to see if we can get Danielle out?"

"Of course," she said, her voice quieter now. "The odds aren't in her favor, as I am sure you know."

"I want my team there."

"Agent Hotchner, absolutely not-"

"We are proven negotiators. We might be able to get Danielle out before they leave the country… You know that if that plane leaves with her onboard, she will be dead before they touch down in Morocco."

Agent Wright looked at him for a minute. On one hand, the BAU was clearly invested in her. But on the other, if something went wrong, it wouldn't be her head on the line.

"Fine," she said. "Your team can be on the ground, excluding Dr. Reid. He must stay here with no contact."

"Agreed," Hotch said, his eyes flickering to Spencer, who was seated at his desk, unmoving, almost frozen in time. He hadn't spoken since the phone called ended in front of him.

"We have wheels up in five hours," Agent Wright said. "We will take a separate plane and the privately contracted pilot will meet us there."

"I'll let my team know," Hotch said, getting up to escort Agent Wright out.

"I'm sorry," Agent Wright said, her tone catching Hotch off guard. "I know how much Danielle has affected your team, especially Spencer…I wish there was a way that we could guarantee that she would make it out of this."

"So do I," Hotch said, opening the door. "I'll see you at the plane in two hours?"

"Yes," she said, and wordlessly left his office. She looked at Spencer pitifully, her heart truly going out to the man.

And then she left the offices of the BAU. Hotch watched her leave, before his eyes darted to Garcia. He nodded his head, gesturing for her to follow him.

"Did you find anything?" he asked, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, but why did you wait until Agent Wright left? Shouldn't she know about this?"

"Not yet," Hotch said. "What did you find?"

"So, I checked the library surveillance records, and sure enough, it was Madeline who accessed the library computers. Now most libraries delete their records, but she went to a small, local library which hasn't turned over to that format yet, so I was able to back trace the email account."

"And?"

"And it's registered to a Madeline Collins, and this is where it gets interesting. There is no photographic evidence of her existing, no ID, no nothing, but I did find a birth certificate. Her parents are a Joshua Collins and a Caroline Karim. Her father died when she was about ten years old, and there was suspected foul play with her mother as the prime suspect but police never found any evidence. Two years later, when she turned twelve, she and her mother disappeared off the face of the earth… However, her mother's name popped up again 9 years ago when her body was found in Corpus Christi."

"Right before the ring started in that area," Hotch mused.

"Yeah, and so then I started backtracking her using surveillance cameras, and I lost her somewhere near Cleveland."

"They want the plane at a town in Ohio called Sandusky… Are there any-"

"Buildings in that area where you could hold someone hostage without drawing any unwanted attention? There are 23 buildings that match the general layout that would work, but, I thought, 'What Would Hotch Do?' and then it hit me. I ran buildings for anything in her parents' names and I found a building registered to a Joshua Karim."

"What are the odds that they are holding her there?" Hotch asked.

"You know I'm not a betting woman," Garcia said, "but I'd say very high. The address is already at your phone and the jet is ready to go."

"I just need to make a call," Hotch said. "Get the team ready, except for-"

"I know, sir," she said, heading out to the team. Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed Agent Wright's number.

"This is Wright," came the agent's voice.

"You said that you wish there was a way we could guarantee that she would make it out of this?" Hotch asked. "What if I told you there was a way that we could drastically increase those chances?"

"I'm listening."

Hotch quickly explained the situation, praying that Agent Wright would agree to it.

"You're leaving in thirty minutes?" she asked.

"That's the plan…"

"I can be there in twenty."

"Glad to hear it," Hotch said, ending the phone call. Looking out his office window, he met Reid's eyes. Slowly, and wordlessly, Reid made his way to Hotch's office.

"Reid-" Hotch began, but Spencer cut him off.

"I know why," he said, clearing his throat, "you don't want me there…It makes sense, I mean, if it was anyone else, I would agree with you, but Hotch… I can't… I can't not be involved in this."

"Reid-" Hotch began before Spencer interrupted him again.

"Hotch, _please_," Spencer pleaded. Hotch met his eyes and he was filled with empathy. Empathy because this was all too similar to watch happened to Haley.

"You can come, but you are not to approach the subject and if I say, stay back, you listen, understand?"

"Thanks, Hotch," Spencer said.

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch said watching the man exit the room, sending a silent prayer to whatever might exist that this would work.


	45. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I let myself sleep after Madeline left, knowing that it was only a matter of time before I was killed. I just wished that I could say goodbye. Especially to Spencer.

The things that I said to him still echoed in my head.

I knew I hurt him, and I had convinced myself that it was because I was trying to protect him.

But, that didn't make it okay. I wanted so much to hear his voice one more time.

If I was being honest, I just wanted the sound of a friend or anyone to tell me I would be okay, even if it was a lie.

I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. Twisting my head, I met the gaze of Nicolas.

"Back for round two?" I asked.

"You are incredibly stupid," he spit out as the chains dropped to the ground, causing me to crumble to the ground.

"So I've been told."

"Stand up," he said sternly. I looked at him, and I knew that I didn't have the energy to fight anymore. Slowly, I made my way to my feet.

He quickly removed the chains from my wrists, but not before putting my hands behind my back and restraining them with what felt like zip ties. I let out a yelp, my arms not used to the position. He didn't speak.

"So, I guess you're in charge of moving me to where ever you're going to kill me?" I asked.

No response.

"Someone's awfully quiet today," I said, trying again to get any response.

Nothing. He pushed me forward. I stumbled a little, my legs sore from the beating that I had received what I assumed was few days ago.

"You could give a girl a little warning," I said trying again to get a response, any response, from him. As he opened the door, I saw his face. His chin was tense, his eyes were stoic, and his mouth twitched slightly.

He was hurt.

Instantly, the words I had taunted him with came flooding back. Even though the bruises on my abdomen were still aching, I knew that I shouldn't have said the things I said. His parents were a touchy subject.

"I'm sorry," I murmured quietly, letting him guide me out of the room. "I didn't mean what I said… I just wanted it to be over…"

He didn't respond.

But his jaw muscle relaxed slightly, so I knew that he had heard me.

That's all I wanted.

I just wanted to die and not think about the bad I had done in the world.

I glanced around this new area as we walked. It looked like I was in an abandoned warehouse. Natural light flooded into this room from high windows. The light burned my eyes, but I relished that feeling.

"We ready to go?" came Madeline's voice from a corner of the room. My eyes darted over to her. She was standing next to the man who had brought me here and an older man, who I assumed was Pavlov from the few pictures I had seen of him.

Was this all the man power they had?

"Yes," Nicolas said gruffly from behind me.

"Perfect," she said. "Let's go!" Her voice was almost cheery, a stark contrast to the somber faces of the two men next to her.

She made her way to the doors of the warehouse, the two men following behind her, as Nicolas pushed me forward. She had almost reached the doors when she froze. I didn't know why at first, but then I heard them.

Sirens.

"Shit," she hissed, turning to face the men. "They found us… How did they find us?"

None of the men spoke, and I resisted the urge to smile.

At least they wouldn't get away with what they had done.

"Lock the doors," she demanded. "Now!"

Instantly, the two men locked the doors and ran to a backroom, returning with multiple guns and ammo. They each geared up, with Pavlov rushing over to give Nicolas a handgun. Madeline looked at me, hatred oozing from her.

"This is your fault," she hissed, her face contorted in anger.

"You won't be getting away with this," I said, "and you deserve all that's coming for you."

"I wouldn't doubt that I'll be getting out of here," she said, "because I do think that we have one card left to play…"

"And what would that be?" I asked.

"There's a reason that they're here," she said. "They want you alive."

"We both know there's no way you let me leave here alive," I said, "so what's your move?"

"You and everyone here may know that," she said, "but they don't… Nicolas, you know what to do."

I was pulled up to his chest in an instant, my feet above the floor. A gun was now steadily pointed at my head.

"You really think that they," I said, nodding my head at the door, where sirens where loud and light flooded in through the high windows, "don't know that you're going to kill me? I knew that you made mistakes to get caught, but I didn't think you were flat out _stupid_!"

Madeline turned to look at me, anger filling her eyes.

"Shut up," she growled at me.

"And having good-old Nicolas kill me?" I asked.

"Shut up!"

"You're always having someone else do your dirty work, huh?" I taunted. "Don't want to get your hands dirty, right?"

"Shut her up," Madeline growled, walking over to Pavlov.

"You don't have to do this you know," I said to Nicolas, my voice lowered as to not draw attention. "If you cooperate with them, they can probably cut you a deal."

"We both know that there's no way I'd be shown any mercy," Nicolas said, his voice low. He hadn't gagged me yet, so there was hope still.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You don't have to believe me, but I didn't mean what I said...especially the last thing I said... I did..."

"I know," he said, after a pause.

I opened my mouth to continue, but then there was a ring from a phone. My head shot to the sound, and I saw Madeline answer a call, putting the phone on speaker.

"This was not the deal," Madeline hissed, her eyes wild.

"We just want Danielle to be freed," came the voice of Derek over the speaker. "Once we have her in our custody, you can leave for Morocco."

"And lose our only insurance?" she said, laughing. "You know that would never work… you would storm the building and kill us once you had her."

"What if we worked out a new agreement?" Derek propositioned. "One that would let us take Danielle alive and let you get out of here."

"Nope," she said. "We made a deal and you broke it. You all need to leave now, or else."

"Madeline, you know that we can't do that."

"Fine. You come in; she dies." And with that, she ended the call. She let out a yell as she chucked the phone across the room. It made a loud clattering sound. The room was tense as she looked around, her eyes finally landing on me.

"You know there's no way you're getting to Morocco, right?" I said.

"Shut up," she said.

"You kill me, they come in. You don't let me go, they come in…and seeing as you've made it apparent to me that I am not leaving alive, I think it's safe to say this is the end for you."

Her eyes narrowed, her face contorted in thought and rage. Then she smiled.

"I guess you are right," she said, "But at least I'll get one last thing…one last request…"

"And what would that be?" I asked, trying to buy more time for the team to get inside.

"I want to see you die first… Kill her." She directed the last statement to Nicolas.

I felt my heart drop.

Knowing you were going to die was one thing…

But knowing it was seconds away from happening was another.

Nicolas pushed me to the ground, and I let out a groan as I hit the ground harshly. He then pulled me up by my shirt so that I was on my knees, his gun aimed steadily at my head. I heard the gun cock.

"Wait," she said, walking over to where the phone had landed, the glass on the phone shattered. "You wanted to say goodbye? Well, here's your chance." She walked over to where Nicolas and I were before she clicked a button and I heard the dialing noise of a phone.

She held the phone near me, but it was on speaker.

Then it picked up.

"You ready to negotiate?" came Derek's voice. I knew that this was her way of making them pay for breaking the deal. Give them hope that I would survive, and then kill me. A way to psychologically suffer from guilt.

"Hey Derek," I said, my voice soft.

"Danielle?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"No," I said, letting out a short laugh, holding back tears. "I'm really not…"

"Are you-"

"Derek, is Spencer there?" I asked, knowing that he deserved an actual goodbye.

He didn't respond for a moment.

"Yes, but he's not allowed to have contact or be in the field."

"Please?" I asked, tears pricking at my eyes. I just wanted to hear his voice one more time.

"Danielle, I'm not allowed-"

"God damn it, Derek!" I shouted; my voice hoarse. "Please!"

There was silence. Then there was the sound of a brief conversation and a rustle on the line.

"Sa-Danielle?" came the all-too familiar voice.

"Spence," I said, my voice caught in my throat for a moment.

It was his voice. It was _him_.

I knew that it had only been a week, maybe two, at the most, but I felt my heart pound at the sound of his voice.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't have a lot of time," I said, a tear running down my face. "I just… I wanted to apologize… I didn't want to-"

"You don't have to apologize," Spencer said.

"But I do," I said, shaking my head. "I lied to you Spence, and I got you involved in this mess… And I left and I said those awful, _awful_ things… But I didn't mean them… and I just want you to know that I- I… I love you Spencer Reid." I choked on that last phrase. I saw Madeline nod towards Nicolas.

"Danielle, you're going to be okay," Spencer said. My heart stopped for a second.

It was a lie, but I needed to hear it.

I _needed_ to.

"Spence, please, try to-" I started, but Madeline ended the call.

"Do it," she said. I swallowed and rose my eyes to meet Nicolas' eyes. If he was going to kill me, I wanted him to look me in the eyes as he did it. I tried not to look scared, I wanted to be brave.

His eyes met mine, and I saw something flicker through them. His gaze faltered for a moment; his muscles softened for a second.

And then he lowered the gun.

"No," he said, his eyes not leaving mine.

"What?" Madeline asked.

"We kill her, then we are all going to die," he said, breaking our eye contact to meet her eyes.

"Fine," she growled, marching over to the corner of the room where the two other men stood, watching. She grabbed a gun and came back, cocking it at my head. "Too weak to kill her? Good thing I'm not."

Her finger was on the trigger.

Then a gun shot rang out.

But I was still alive.

Nicolas had the gun pointed at where her arm had been moments ago.

"You fucking son of a bitch," she growled, clutching her arm on the ground. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at the gun in his hand, his face contorted in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he had done.

Then the door burst open.

Everything happened in a blur. Madeline leaped to her feet, grabbing me and putting the gun to my gut as agents with guns swarmed the room. I glanced to where Pavlov and the other man were. They had multiple guns trained on them, yet their eyes never left Madeline.

They were waiting for her signal.

"Let her go," said Rossi, his gun aimed in our direction.

"I'm not stupid," she said, favoring her left side. I felt the blood from her wound trickling down her arm onto my body. "You're going to kill me anyways."

"You need medical attention," Rossi said. "We can get that for you."

"No," she said, shaking. She was in pain, that much was apparent. The wound was likely prohibiting her for putting the gun to my head, losing access to a definitive kill shot.

"Madeline, you need to let her go," Derek said.

"If I am going down, this bitch is coming with me," she growled as a gun shot rang out.

I let out a scream as pain exploded in my abdomen and I crumbled to the ground. The world became blurry and I heard more gun shots ring out, until everything stilled. My abdomen felt on fire, pain ricocheting throughout. My arms were still stuck behind me, but I felt liquid spreading. I may have been on the edge on unconsciousness, but I wasn't stupid.

It was blood.

I gasped and struggled to breathe, knowing that it would help me keep conscious.

Then there was a figure over me.

"Dani, stay awake, okay, do not close your eyes," a voice said. My vision blurred and my breathing slowed. I couldn't make out the figure in front of me.

"I'm… so tired…" I murmured, hearing my words slur.

"Listen, love, you're not dying on me today," the voice said, applying pressure to my abdomen where, I assumed, I had been shot. It hurt, but I knew that, whoever it was, was trying to stop the blood loss.

"Is she dead?" I asked, struggling to get the words out. I needed to know.

"Madeline? Yeah…yeah, she's dead," the voice said. "It's over… We need medical over here now!"

"You need to step away from her, right now," another voice said.

"Just… just help her…" the first voice said.

"Danielle, stay awake, eyes on me, okay?" the second voice said, more pressure being put on my abdomen.

"Tell Spence I'm sorry," I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut. "I… can't…"

"Danielle, stay awake! God damn it, where is medical?" the voice asked, sounding more and more distant.

As my eyes shut, the world turned black.

And that's the last thing I remember.


	46. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

THIRD PERSON POV  
The gun shot broke Spencer away from the phone. He had been staring at it since the call ended. His head shot up as the rest of the team rushed into the warehouse. He took a step forward, but JJ held him back.

"You know what Hotch said," she warned, her eyes darting to the building in worry. Deep down Spencer knew she was right. He had no gun, no vest, no nothing.

So, he waited.

And he heard more gun shots.

He broke away from JJ's grasp and ran to the building.

He entered the building to see a mess.

Two men in the corner, both shot nonfatally, but nursing either an arm or a leg. On the opposite side of the room was a sight that caused for his breath to hitch.

There were two unmoving figures on the ground, with two men over one. One was applying pressure to the unmoving figure's abdomen, while the other had a gun aimed at him.

"You need to step away from her, right now," said the man wielding the gun.

It was Morgan.

"Just… just help her…" the other said, and Spencer immediately knew who it was, as the figure stepped away from the body: it was Nicolas. Hotch grabbed him and dragged him out of the building, motioning to Rossi as he left. As his eyes drifted to the figure on the ground, he saw who it was. Despite her hair being messed up, and the paleness on her face, he recognized her immediately.

Danielle.

"Danielle, stay awake, eyes on me, okay?" Morgan said, applying pressure on her abdomen. She had been shot, and was losing blood and fast.

"Reid, you need to get out of here. Now," Rossi said, appearing in front of Spencer, obstructing his view of Danielle. "You can't be here."

"But-" Spencer began as a quiet voice caught his attention.

"Tell Spence I'm sorry… I… can't…" Danielle trailed off.

"Danielle, stay awake! God damn it, where is medical?" Morgan yelled. Spencer couldn't move. An EMT squad immediately rushed into the building heading for her unmoving body.

"Spencer. Out. Now," Hotch said from behind him. When Spencer didn't respond, he dragged the man out of the building. Spencer put up no resistance, his mind and body in shock.

_Was she dead?_

"Hotch, she can't die, she-"

"Reid, they are going to do everything they can," Hotch said. "They're going take her to Detroit Medical. I can have someone drive you." As soon as Hotch had spoken the words, the EMTs exited the building, with Danielle on a stretcher.

"Is she alive?" Reid asked, trying to make his way to them. "Is she okay?"

"Reid," Hotch said, grabbing his shoulder. "There's nothing you can do… Morgan, can you take him the hospital?"

"Yeah, come on Reid," Morgan said, guiding the tall genius away from the ambulance where Danielle's unmoving body was being put, sirens on.

Everything blurred for him.

He didn't remember the drive there.

He didn't remember walking into the hospital.

He didn't remember Morgan asking where she was.

He didn't remember sitting in the waiting room for hours.

He didn't remember finding out she was in critical condition.

He didn't remember her going into surgery.

All he could think about was how he never got the chance to tell her that he loved her too.

"Reid," Morgan asked, sitting next to him in the dull waiting room, "you need to eat something."

Spencer didn't answer, opting to just shake his head. The sound of a door opening drew Spencer out of his thoughts.

It was Hotch, Rossi, Blake, JJ, and Garcia. And all were looking at him with pity.

He hated that.

"Spence," JJ said, sitting next to him. "What did the doctor say?"

"Morgan?" Spencer asked, motioning for him to speak.

"She's in surgery… it's pretty bad," Morgan said, standing to talk to the team away from Spencer, but he listened in intensely. "They are worried about damage to her internal organs and there wasn't an exit wound, and judging from the trajectory, they are concerned about spinal cord damage…"

"She could be paralyzed?" Garcia asked, her eyes flickering towards Spencer.

"There's a chance, but they won't know until they get the internal bleeding under control and ensure that she's stable. Then they can take her for X-rays to see where the bullet is," Morgan said.

"And Reid?" Hotch asked, his voice quiet enough so that Spencer couldn't hear.

"He hasn't processed it at all… I think he's in shock."

"I hate to bring this up," Blake said, "but what happens if Danielle doesn't make it?"

No one spoke for a moment. They didn't know what would happen if Danielle died.

"Did we get anything from Nicolas?" Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

"No," Rossi said. "The CIA is trying to crack him now, but I doubt they'll have much luck."

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"Because he keeps asking about Danielle," Garcia said. Spencer's head snapped up.

"Who?" he asked. "Nicolas?"

"Spence-" JJ started.

"He got her in this mess, he's doesn't deserve to know," Spencer said, standing up. Silence flooded over the team, the air tense. Then Blake spoke.

"Has anyone spoken with her family?"

"JJ called them about an hour ago," Hotch said. "Her sister should be here soon."

The silence returned as the team sat around where Spencer and JJ now sat. It was quiet in the room. The door opened, and a woman ran towards the desk.

"My sister? Danielle Hansen? She-" she began and the nurse at the desk began to speak.

"She's in surgery right now, a doctor will update you soon… please be seated."

"Ashley Hansen?" Hotch asked, walking towards the woman. She turned, her blonde hair catching on her face as she frantically pushed it out of the way. "I'm Agent Hotchner of the FBI, you spoke to Agent Jennifer Jareau earlier?"

"Yes," she said, gulping, "Has there been any news on my sister?"

"Agent Morgan can fill you in," he said. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"No," she said sitting down, "thank you."

Morgan spoke to the woman across for him. Ashely's face was serious the whole time, but inside she was terrified.

"I hadn't seen her in years," she said. "I told her she was going to get out of there… I can't let that be a lie." She buried her face into her hands.

No one spoke.

No one knew how to comfort this woman who was a stranger to them.

Then a door opened and a voice spoke.

"I need to speak to relatives of Danielle Hansen?" Immediately, everyone looked up at the doctor.

"That's me," Ashley said. "I'm her sister… Is she okay?"

"Please follow me," he said. Ashley didn't fight and followed him.

But the team noticed he didn't answer her question.

And a few minutes later, she returned to the room, papers in hand. Everyone looked expectantly at her.

"She's alive," she said. "But she's still unconscious… But there were complications with the surgery… the good thing is that they were able to get the bullet out and they don't think her spinal cord was compromised…"

A breath of relief flooded over the whole team, with all of them turning to him.

"When will she… wake up?" he asked.

"You must be Spencer," Ashley said, smiling softly, "they aren't sure, but they are hopeful she'll wake up in a few hours… Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call my husband and son…" She left the room to make the call.

JJ grasped Spencer's hand.

"She's okay, Spence," she said, squeezing his hand.

He didn't speak, but a tear did fall down his face as it all hit him at once.

She was alive.

She was _alive_.

Outside of the room, Ashley dialed her husband's number.

"Ash," Charlie said through the line. "How is she?"

"Charlie," Ashley said, tears streaming down her face. "She's alive, but…"

"But what?" he asked.

"The bullet… they had to perform an emergency hysterectomy, but Charlie… she was _pregnant_."

"Do you think she knew?"

"No," Ashley said, leaning against the wall. "And I'm going to have to tell her once she wakes up... She's going to be heartbroken."


	47. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The first thing I noticed was the light.

No, not in that metaphorical, "I see the light!" bullshit.

Like, the world around me was dark and then it was lit.

I don't know, I've never been a descriptive type.

I guess I was alive?

It didn't make much sense by my account, but judging from the sounds of beeping and the smell of rubbing alcohol, I was either alive or in a very weird afterlife.

Only one way to figure it out.

I put my energy into trying to open my eyes. My eyelids fluttered and the warm light soon became burning. A groan escaped my lips as my eyes opened.

I was in a hospital room and my abdomen hurt like hell.

"Dani? Oh my God, you're awake!" came a voice. I turned my head to the side slightly and was met with a familiar mess of blonde hair.

Ash.

"Scale of 1 to 10, how bad do I look?" I asked, struggling to smile.

"Shut up, you almost died, you dumb bitch," she said, opening the door and yelling, "Doctor, she's up!"

"How long have I been out?" I asked, sit up as a doctor entered the room. Almost immediately, I was gently pushed down.

"Ms. Hansen, you need to rest… you just underwent some major surgery and major trauma… had a whole bunch of people really scared for a while there," the doctor said. He began to do some tests, including one which involved shining a light in my eyes, which I did _not _appreciate. He also checked stitches on my abdomen, which I knew were going to leave a very ugly scar. "Everything seems good right now, but I'll have someone checking you every hour…" The doctor left the room, shutting it tightly behind him. Ashley was looking at me, concern on her face.

"What's got you all stoic?" I asked.

"You almost died…" she said.

"Eh, wasn't as bad as you would think," I said, trying to crack a joke. Judging from the frown that she gave me, she didn't appreciate it. "Kidding?"

"Dani, we need to talk about something…" she said.

"What?" I asked, sensing her tone, but then the door opened and a familiar figure ran into the room.

"Aunt Dani!" Ben yelled, running to my side and hugging me. I groaned, but returned the hug.

"Hey kid," I said. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he said. "I just ate Jell-O!"

"Red or green?" I asked.

"Both!"

"Wow, sounds like your dad let you lose in the cafeteria, huh?" I asked, noticing Charlie come in. He was sporting a sling on his arm, but otherwise looked okay. "Hey Charlie."

"Good to see that you're okay Dani," he said, grabbing Ashley's waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I tried to keep him out but he was worried about her."

"Worried about me?" I asked Ben. "No, I'm practically Superwoman, nothing can hurt me."

"What about the man?" Ben asked. I glanced at his parents and knew that they must have told him just that Nicolas was bad.

"The police have him," I said. "He's not going to be bothering us anymore, okay?"

"So, can you come visit? I have an awesome trampoline!"

"A trampoline?" I asked, smiling at the boy. God, I had missed seeing his face almost every day. "Well, we will have to see, but I would love to."

"Ben," Ashley said, rummaging in her purse for something. "Why don't you and dad go get Aunt Dani a sandwich, hm?" She whipped out a few dollars and handed them to Charlie. The pair exited the room, and she closed the door shut behind them.

"I'm glad they're okay… He's not having nightmares again, is he?" I asked, referring to Ben. After Ash found our parents, Ben started having some bad dreams at night.

"No, he's okay," she said. "But we need to talk Dani."

"Sure, yeah," I said, sitting up, ignoring her look, "what's up?" She didn't say anything for a moment.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh… getting shot and then I heard people talking and that's where it goes black," I said.

"Okay, well," she said, sitting down in a chair and leaning towards me. "You had some pretty bad internal bleeding… you were in surgery for a few hours… they were worried about the bullet hitting your spinal cord but they got it out…"

"Sounds like very thing went well," I said, looking at her face, her eyebrows furrowed and mouth fixed in a frown. "So what's the bad news?"

"The bullet… God, Dani there is no good way to put this," she said.

"Just spit it out," I said. "You're freaking me out!"

"They had to perform a hysterectomy," she said, her voice quiet. I felt as if I just ran into a wall of bricks.

"A hysterectomy?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows and feeling my breathing get faster.

"Yeah," she said, looking up to the ceiling. I could see her fighting tears. "But Dani, they also found that you… you were pregnant."

Another wall of bricks.

I didn't speak.

The words physically wouldn't come out of my mouth.

"Say something," she said. "I thought you would rather hear it from me than some random doctor…"

"How far along?" I whispered, hugging myself to avoid freaking out.

"They think about a month, maybe less…" she said. "I am so sorry."

I was pregnant.

_Was._

"You didn't tell Spencer, right," I said, meeting her eyes, fighting back tears.

"No," she said. "That's not my place."

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"God, Dani, I am so sorry," she said, grabbing my wrist.

"It's not your fault," I murmured, focusing on the door to a bathroom. I couldn't think about it or else I would fall apart.

"I know, but I just… I don't know…"

"It's okay," I said, forcing a smile on my face. It felt fake.

It was fake.

"The FBI team is here, and they want to see you," she said.

"To interrogate or to visit?" I asked, still not focusing on anything except that door.

"I don't know, but Spencer is there…"

"He wants to see me?" I asked, turning to meet her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, "I think so."

"You can send them in," I said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She left the room but not before she turned to look at me one more time.

"I love you, you idiot," she said. "I'm glad this mess is finally over."

"Love you too, bitch," I said, giving her a smile.

As the door closed, I let a few tears fall.

How was it possible that I didn't know I was pregnant, and yet I felt so much sadness for what was essentially a clump of cells at this point?

Sure, I had entertained the thought of kids, but I wasn't one of those girls who planned out how many kids and what their names would be. I was more, if it happens, it happens.

But knowing that it would never happen… that was hard.

The door opening broke me from my thoughts.

"Spence," I said, looking at the familiar man entering the room. He looked the same, but he had more defined eyebags.

"Hey," he said, keeping his distance from me. "I, uh, convinced the rest of the team to give you so time before they come in, so we could… talk."

"Yeah, of course," I said. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Not super well the past two weeks…" he confessed sheepishly.

"Might want to work on that," I said. "Hotch needs you functioning at full capacity."

Silence came over us, and for the first time I realized how much of strangers we were. He didn't know anything about my real life…

"What should I call you?" he asked.

"Danielle, or Dani, if you're feeling like it," I said. "Sarah was my grandmom's name, so it felt weird."

"I like Danielle," he said. "It's pretty."

"Thanks," I said. "Look, I know we need to talk about some stuff, but there's something that I really need to tell you-"

"Can I say something first?" he asked. I nodded as he took a deep breath. "I know that I should be mad because you lied to me… but I, I just… I know that you couldn't tell me for your safety, and I'm just glad that you're okay…"

"Wow," I said. "I really don't deserve that, but… thank you for being… so understanding."

"And Dani," he said, and I smiled at the use of my nickname, "I don't know if you want to try, um, 'us,' again, but I… you said that you… loved me and I wanted to tell you that I love you too, no matter what name you use."

I felt my eyes water for what seemed like the 15th time today.

"I love you too," I said as he sat in the chair. I grasped his hand and met his eyes, before remembering what I had to tell him. "But Spence… I have to tell you something… I, obviously, was in surgery, and they had to perform a hysterectomy…"

"I'm sorry," he said, squeezing my hand gently, "But you don't-"

"No, I do," I said, feeling a tear fall down my cheek. "They found out that I was pregnant…"

Silence fell over us.

"Say something," I asked, his face blank. He didn't speak for a few seconds, but it felt like eternity.

"I'm just glad you're okay," he said, but his tone was blank. "I have… I have to step outside."

"Okay," I said, letting his hand go and watching him leave.

And then I was alone.

Even though I had been in isolation in that warehouse, that was nothing compared to how I felt right now.


	48. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Some point later that day, Hotch came into the room to debrief me and to ask me some questions.

_Did you know if anyone else was involved?_

_ Explain what happened while in captivity._

_ Did you give names of anyone?_

Basic, post-kidnapped-and-tortured stuff.

"I think that's all I need to ask you," he said, gathering up his files. "But how are you?"

"I've been better," I said.

"Part of what I have to do, in terms of investigative work," Hotch said, leaning in the seat towards me, "is review your medical records to ensure that what you tell me, matches up… So… _how are you?_"

"You know about…" I said trailing off, unable to say the words.

"I know," he said, "and I want to help you in any way I can… I can get you in touch with a great therapist?"

There was a part of me that wanted to say no. Say that I would be fine. But that was my pride. And I was so sick of letting my pride get in the way of everything.

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "Okay, yeah, I think… I think that would be a good thing…"

"I can get you their contact information by tomorrow morning… There is one more thing we need to talk about."

"What?"

"Nicolas," Hotch said. "He wants to talk to you."

"Why?" I asked. "He didn't shoot me, but the bastard certainly didn't do me any favors."

"He applied the initial pressure to your gunshot would," Hotch said, "and I'm not implying that you owe him anything, but I think he does care about you in his own… twisted way."

"Can I think about it?" I asked, a little shocked that Nicolas would help me after all that he did. But it did make sense… he was the only person who ever called me 'love.'

"Of course," he said. "I just thought you would want to know."

"Yeah, thanks," I said. "Hotch, how is Spence doing?"

"He was worried about you," Hotch said. "Ignored my direct orders to stay out of the field…"

"I told him about… my…" I trailed off. Did I say pregnancy? I didn't even know until after it ended.

"I figured as much," Hotch said. "He left your room in a hurry a few hours ago… JJ is with him now at his hotel room."

"Keep an eye on him," I said. "He's been through a lot."

"So, have you," Hotch said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said, sitting up, "I guess…"

"Rest up Danielle," he said, leaving a faint smile on his face.

"It's Dani, Hotch," I said, smiling as he closed the door.

And then I was alone again.

The next few days passed with mostly my sister and her family visiting. Spencer didn't return, and I assumed he had gone back to Virginia with the rest of the team. After all, serial killers don't take holidays.

I couldn't help but feel that he blamed me. I mean, had I been honest and gotten help, we could be talking about preparing for a baby in our lives.

Before I knew it, I was signing my release papers.

"And take it easy… no strenuous exercise, take your medicine, get lots of rest…" the doctor said as I signed the forms.

"Got it," I said. "Thanks."

"So," Ash said, "what's your plan?"

"I'm going to stay at a hotel for a few days," I said, "and then I'll probably go back to Virginia, get a new job, new apartment, the works… As much as I hated Witness Protection and Stafford, I've been thinking about moving to DC, or somewhere near there." Plus, I mused, it's where the therapist Hotch had recommended for me was. "What about you guys?"

"We are thinking about moving back to Texas," Charlie said.

"Really?" I asked. "Anywhere specific?"

"We were thinking Austin… they have a great law firm that has already reached out to Charlie and the schools are great for Ben," Ash said.

"That sounds great," I said. "And I can come visit?" I directed the second sentiment to Ben.

"Yeah!" he said, before a frown appeared on his face. "Can we bring the trampoline?"

"Yes Ben," Charlie said, chuckling, "we can bring the trampoline!"

They helped me get settled into the hotel and bid me goodbye, as they had to head to their home and pack up.

"Be safe, okay?" Ash murmured into my shoulder as we hugged.

"You too," I said. "Love you."

"Love you too," she said, ushering her family out the door.

As the door closed, I looked at my small bag of personal belongings. Truth be told, I would only be here for two days.

Just long enough to see Nicolas and get arrangements to get back to Virginia.

I sat for a few moments, trying to process everything that had happened in the few past weeks.

And that was the first time that I truly let myself cry. I sat on the floor in a random hotel and just cried.

I cried for my lost pregnancy, for the betrayal of a friend, for the pain my family and friends had gone through, and I cried because I could finally be Danielle again.

I spent that night skimming through flights and eating bad Chinese take-out from the place across the street from the hotel. At some point I passed out.

I woke up the next morning and quickly took a shower before changing into an outfit that Ash had loaned me.

And then I caught an Uber to Ionia Correctional Facility. Once I got there, I went through excessive body pat-downs before I found myself seated across from Nicolas.

"Hey," I said.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice blunt.

"I… I honestly don't know," I said. "I wanted to thank you, but honestly, I don't think I have to, but… thank you for saving my life, I guess." I shrugged, just for good measure.

"I didn't want a bullet in the head," he said, his eyes narrow.

"You know," I said leaning towards the glass divide between us, "I knew you for a year and a half, Nic… I know when you're lying. Your left eye twitches."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yeah, it does," I said. "And you don't have to admit it, but thanks… You're the reason I'm alive…"

He didn't speak, and we sat in silence until the guard yelled, "Five minutes!"

"I made a deal," he said. "Life in prison in exchange for information… otherwise, I was looking at the death penalty."

"That's good," I said.

"Yeah," he murmured, before asking, "So, this Spencer dude… awfully skinny, tall dude, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, "but he's a good guy."

"Good," Nicolas said, nodding. "You deserve that… just… don't put up with any bullshit, okay?"

"I won't," I said.

"I love you, you know that, right?" he asked. "Every time I hurt you, I… I wanted to stop, but-"

"You have a temper, Nic," I said. "I exploited that… and I hope that you can find peace."

"Me too," he said. "Me too…"

"Time's up, visiting hours are over!" the guard yelled.

"I guess this is goodbye?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "It is."

"Goodbye love, and take care," he said.

"You too," I said, sending him a smile as I said my goodbyes and left that prison.

As I made my way back to the hotel, I decided to grab some microwave soup for dinner. I went to bed early, as I had an 8:00AM flight the next day.

The next morning, I landed in DC around 10:00AM, and headed to my apartment in Stafford to grab a few things. Hotch had told me that they had cleaned it for evidence, but I didn't want to live there anymore. That was Sarah's life. Not mine.

I walked in and set down my small bag, looking around. It was clean, with no trace of the mess or photos that had awaited my arrival less than a month ago.

The next week was filled with packing and apartment and job searching. Ultimately, I found a small house outside of DC in a suburb that was relatively cheap and I had an interview scheduled with the Washington Post, although I _may _have had to name drop my contacts at the FBI and within the Marshal service.

I was almost done packing up my kitchen when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, I came face to face with Spencer.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi," he replied, before motioning, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," I said. "Excuse the mess, I'm packing up for DC."

"DC?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm moving out there for a job opportunity and to get away from here and Hotch hooked me up with a great therapist."

"Oh," Spencer said. "That's- that's great."

"So," I asked, "what's up?"

"I wanted to apologize," Spencer said. "I shouldn't have left, but… I needed to get my head on straight."

"It's okay," I said. "I'm still trying to figure it out… thus the therapist."

"I didn't realize you were moving," he said.

"Yeah," I said, "Stafford was always weird to me and never the place I wanted to be."

"DC, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm really excited about it," I said. "I did New York for a while, so I figured I should try something different."

"You know, DC is really close to Quantico…" Spencer said his voice trailing off. I looked at him quizzically.

"Yeah?"

"What would you think," he asked, taking a step towards me, "if we tried us again?"

"You… you want to do that?" I asked, a tad shocked. "I assumed that…"

"I only have one request," he said. "I want to know you… everything about you…"

"Deal," I said, smiling.

"I missed you," he said, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I missed you too," I murmured, burying my head into his shoulder.


	49. THE EPILOGUE

The next few months blurred together. I found someone to take over my lease of my Stafford apartment, I interviewed at _The Washington Post _(and got the job on the investigative journalism staff), I started seeing a therapist (Dr. Charles Longford), I moved into the small house I found, and I started seeing Spencer again.

Everything was finally getting a little better.

I found myself smiling and doing the things I loved again. I even went to Austin a few times and visited Ash, Charlie, and Ben where we jumped on the trampoline.

What I wasn't ready for, was when I turned on the news to see my face plastered there.

I knew that the death of an international crime ring leader, like Madeline, would catch media attention, but I forgot the part where I was a part of it too. I was asked to be interviewed, but I declined every time, redirecting them to the FBI or to my recently-published article. When I worked on the piece that started it all, it never got published, so as to protect the sanctity of the investigation and, ultimately, my undercover work for the CIA… but now that it was over The New York Times published it, with my permission and revisions.

Spencer and I, well, it wasn't easy at first. We had to start from scratch and there were fights. Fights about my lies and fights about his constant checking-in, but after a while, we started to truly rebuild.

I told him about my family, explained my past with Nicolas, and showed him pictures from my childhood. He told me about his job, about his past troubles with drugs, and we even went to Vegas to meet his mom. We were lucky; the day we went, she was having a good day.

It broke my heart when I brought Spencer to Austin to really meet my family. It was clear that he loved playing with Ben, and knowing that I would never be able to give him that…

I cried a lot that weekend.

But there were also good times.

Like when Penelope and I went out to a bar and got absolutely wasted, and had to have Spencer come bring us home. I owed her a drink for protecting my secret, and one drink turned into one too many.

Or, when my piece about homeless rates in DC got approved for publication. Spencer and I made pad thai to celebrate before we fell asleep on the couch.

It was about 7 months into this new life, when Spencer and I were reading in the small living room when he brought up something.

"It feels like I am always over here," he said, setting down his book.

"It's not like half of your clothing is here," I said, laughing. "Oh, wait…" I gave him a playful nudge.

"What if I brought the other half and some of my other things…"

"Wait," I said, realization spawning on me, "you mean… like… move in?"

"Obviously, only if you want that," he said, "but DC is closer to my work and I wouldn't have to drive so much to see you…"

"Yeah," I said, smiling, "let's do it."

"We can pack up my stuff this weekend?" he asked. It was Thursday, so that meant we could start tomorrow evening.

"Yeah," I said, before pausing. "Are you sure you're ready for this… I mean, moving in together is a really big step…"

"I think we are ready for it," he said, scooting over towards me. "I mean, we've been dating for a little over a year now, right?"

"I guess you're right," I said. "I guess you're moving in, _pretty boy_."

"You've been hanging out with Garcia and JJ too much," he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"What can I say?" I said. "I needed some girlfriends!"

OOOO

Packing up Spencer's stuff was much more difficult than I thought it would be. He had a _lot_ of books.

"I guess now I have a new project," I said packing up the fifth box of books.

"And what would that be?" Spencer asked, busy packing up the rest of his clothing.

"Making some bookshelves!" I said happily. "I used to do this kind stuff with my dad…" My voice trailed off. I hadn't gotten used to being able to talk about my parents, Christine and Jonathan Hansen, even though it had been seven months since I was able to resume life as Danielle.

"Really?" Spencer asked. "Home improvement kind of family?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling at the memories, "my mom loved to do that kind of stuff… she got the whole family into it… hell, my headboard was made out of a door."

"You'll have to teach me some stuff," he said. I turned to see Spencer leaning against the door frame of the room.

"Yeah," I said laughing, "like I'm letting you touch a drill."

"Can't be any more dangerous than me having a gun," he said, chuckling.

"I still have to talk to Hotch about that," I said. Just then I felt a sock hit me. "Hey!"

"I am perfectly capable of handling a gun," he said, grinning guiltily. Especially since the other sock was in his hand.

"I'm gonna get you for that," I said, throwing the sock back at him.

"I don't doubt it," he said, retreating into his room. I watched him as he left, shaking my head as a smile spread across my face.

OOOO

A few months later, Spencer and I found ourselves back in Stafford.

"Over a year later, and we are finally going to the Stafford Civil War Park, huh?" I asked, wrapping my jacket around me a little tighter.

"You always said we should go, and I figured…why not?" Spencer said. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said, looking around. "It's just weird being back here after a year."

"And look at how much we've changed," he said, grasping my hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"Yes," I said, smiling brightly at him. "Look at us now."

We walked looking at the various things at the park.

"Did you know that 35,000 soldiers occupied Stafford County while their new commander, General Joseph Hooker rebuilt his army?" Spencer asked.

"That I did not know," I said, "but thank you for enlightening me."

"And I think that," Spencer said, pointing to a fixture ahead of us, "would be the Daniel Bridge." I squinted my eyes as we approached the building. It was a bridge with three archways covered in a floral kind of ivy.

"It's beautiful," I said. "It's amazing that it's still structurally sound after this many years."

"It was built in 1771 but restored in 1920," Spencer mused as we stopped in front of the building.

"Well, they did a great job," I said, admiring the architecture of the building. "Don't you think?" I turned, looking upward, to meet Spencer's eyes, but he wasn't there.

He was on the ground.

With on knee on the ground and ring in hand.

"Spence?" I asked. "What are-"

"Let me talk for a minute, okay?" he said. "Do you remember what you told me about happiness? You said that happiness was reliant upon us holding on to the good so we have something to keep us afloat when nothing seems good. And it's those moments that light the darkness, that are our happiest… Danielle, despite the mess that we've dealt with, you are the good in my life, so I want to ask you… will you continue to be the happiness and good in my life."

I looked at him, tears welling in my eyes. I found myself kneeling in front of him.

"Spence," I asked. "Are you sure? I mean, I know that you want kids… and I can't… I can't give that to you, and I don't want you to-"

"There are other options," he said, before smiling at me, and grasping my hand. "I love you, Danielle, and nothing will ever change that."

"I love you too," I said, before giving him a kiss.

"May I?" he asked, motioning to the ring.

"Of course," I said, giving my hand as he put the ring on that finger. I kissed him again as we sat under the arch of that bridge. And all I could think was how I hoped for us to last like the bridge we sat under had for years.

OOOO

"Let me see the ring!" JJ asked, rushing towards me, as I walked in the FBI headquarters. I let out a soft chuckle, and extended my left hand. "What do you know? Pretty boy and pretty ring…I think you lucked out."

"That I did, JJ," I said, glancing at Spencer who gave me a small wave, before returning to his work.

"You here to see Spence?" she asked.

"No," I said, clearing my throat, "I'm actually here to see Hotch."

"Oh," she said, surprise on her face. "Yeah, he's just in his office up there."

"Great, thanks JJ," I said, making my way up the stairs and knocking on the door.

"Come in," came the familiar voice of Hotch.

"Hey Hotch," I said. "You busy?"

"Never too busy for the future Mrs. Reid," he said, a shadow of a smile dancing on his face. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I said, "but I had the easy part… I just had to say yes."

"I suppose so," he said. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?" I asked, sitting down across from him.

"Depends on what it is," he said. I knew that he was referencing anything to do with Nicolas or the Cartel del Golfo. That, according to Hotch, was not something I needed to get into again.

"I promise, nothing to do with that."

"By all means," he said, motioning for me to continue.

"Ok," I said, sitting straight. "Well, um, you were the first person of the team, I met, and without you, I wouldn't have met Spencer and I would probably be dead in that warehouse… And I'm really grateful for that… and you know that Spence and I are engaged, but my parents aren't here anymore… so I was wondering, because I kind of think of you as an older brother – I hope I'm not overstepping here – if you would be willing to 'give me away?' And you don't have to, I just thought that-"

"Danielle," Hotch said, smiling, "I would be honored to."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really."

"I'm going to hug you now, okay?" I said, getting up and hugging him tightly. He returned the hug, before letting go.

"Do you have a date yet?"

"We're thinking early May," I said.

"Sounds lovely."

"Yeah," I said, glancing out his window to Spencer, who was furiously reading case files. "It does."

OOOO

The wedding was small. We did it at a small outdoor venue at a local garden in DC. Hotch gave me away, Ashley was the perfect maid-of-honor, with Penelope and JJ both were bridesmaids, Ben was an adorable ringbearer, Morgan teased Spencer the whole time as his best man. I even was able to get Spencer's mom to come. She was confused and dazed, but Spencer was excited that she was there all the same.

We had a small reception at our house. Everyone mingled and danced to the music that we played through a speaker in the kitchen. Spencer and I swayed to the music for the traditional "first dance."

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Being Mrs. Reid?" I countered. "It feels wonderful."

"I love you," he said, giving me a kiss.

"I love you too," I murmured, putting my head against his chest. I felt safe and happy with him, something that I had so long been deprived of.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"What would you think," he began, lowering his voice, "about starting to start the adoption process?"

My breath hitched. We had talked about adoption a few months before, and we both knew that we wanted to have kids, I just didn't think it would happen as soon.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really."

"Let's do it," I said, pulling him into a hug, a smile spreading on my face.

"We can start it as soon as tonight."

"Sounds like a plan, Dr. Reid," I said, as the song we had been swaying to, stopped. And it felt like we were the only people in the world.

OOOO

It took two years, but eventually Spencer and I were chosen to adopt the child of a teenage girl in Indiana. Before we knew it, we were waiting outside of a hospital room to meet a child.

_Our _child.

"You ready?" I asked him, holding his hand tight.

"Of course," he said.

"You know," I said, "this baby is going to be in serious trouble with all the spoiling they'll be getting from their aunts and uncles… especially Auntie Penelope."

"You got that right," he said.

"Doctor and Mrs. Reid?" a voice said, grabbing both of our attention.

"Yes?" Spencer asked.

"Would you like to meet her?"

_Her_.

We didn't want to know the gender until after the baby was born.

_Her_.

"Please," I said, following the woman, Spencer's hand tight in mine. We walked down a few hallways, and found ourselves in front of the nursery.

"Right there," the woman said. "You can hold her in a few hours."

"Thank you," I said, gazing at the baby. She was bald and small.

"She's beautiful," Spencer said, wrapping his arms around me, "just like her mom."

"I'll bet she'll be smart as hell," I said, kissing his arm lightly, "with you for a dad."

"So… a girl…"

"Yeah," I said. "I guess we should think of names, huh?"

"I already have an idea," he said.

"And what would that be?"

"Christine Diane Reid."

"Christine…" I said, turning to face him. "Like my mom?"

"And Diane," he said, "like mine."

"I love it," I murmured. "It's perfect… just like her."

And as we stood out of that nursery, gazing at our Christine with Spencer's arms wrapped around me, I couldn't help but feel that I got my happy ending. No matter how improbable Spencer had thought that they might be, I knew that this was bliss and happiness.

OOOO

**Author's Note:**

Thank you.

When I came up with the idea to write this story, I wrote thousands of words a day, and then my pace fell slower, taking more time to write and refine my chapters. I'm positive that this is littered with grammatical errors and story line holes. I am by no means a writer, least of all a fiction writer. I'm just a teenage girl who had an idea and put those thoughts to paper (or a computer in this case).

I have to be honest. In my initial plan for this story, Danielle was supposed to die. Maybe you caught onto that. It was supposed to be a tragic death, one that was almost stopped. And then I was going to explore how Spencer's rebuilt from that, and didn't let the loss destroy him, something that I feel the series didn't touch on as much as I would have liked. But I realized that she had become a dynamic character on her own, and that she was a fighter… With that in mind, I let her take control of the wheel and left her have her happy ending. After all that she's been through, I felt she deserved it.

Maybe some of you feel cheated by the briefness of the ending of this story. That's on purpose. I wanted to let you all think of what may have happened in the events not described, reflect on the loss that these characters went through, and to allow for you to draw your own conclusions on how they rebuilt from there.

To those who reviewed, favorited, followed, or even just read my story, thank you. I don't reply to comments because I try not to let a reader's thoughts or feelings influence my work, but I did read every single comment and my heart swelled with every notification I got.

I don't know if I will write another story on this website. It all depends on when/where/how the creativity bug bites!

May you all continue writing and reading and being the absolute amazing human beings that you all are! I'll be rooting you all on.

XOXO

K. Manning


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